Fifty Shades of Texas
by HopefulEVOLution
Summary: When college senior Maya Hunter steps in for Riley Matthews to interview the intimidating businessman, Lucas Friar, for their campus paper, she did not expect the turn it would take in her life. An odd attraction between the two, Maya finds herself tangled in an affair where she learns the boundaries between pleasure and pain both physically and emotionally.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I do not own Girl Meets World, the characters, the locations, the songs and quotes mentioned in it.

 **Based off Fifty Shade of Grey Trilogy with a slight twist of Girl Meets World in it.**

* * *

 _I'm so used to being used_

 _So I love when you call unexpected_

 _'cause I hate when the moment's expected_

 _So I'ma care for you, you, you_

 _I'ma care for you, you, you, you, yeah_

 _'cause girl you're perfect_

 _You're always worth it_

 _And you deserve it_

 _The way you work it_

 _'cause girl you earned it, yeah_

 _Girl you earned it, yeah_

\- Earned it; The Weeknd

* * *

 _"Chance encounters are what keeps us going."  
_

\- Haruki Murakami

* * *

 **Chapter One: The Interview**

I was going to kill her.

I want to kill her so bad. And revive her later on just to kill her again.

This is the worst thing I've ever done for her. And I've done a lot of dumb stuff for her in the past. Most of those things have given me detention and a couple of suspensions (even though those never bothered me) but it is the thought I put into my tricks that counts. So she better be fully grateful for this because this is the biggest torment for me yet.

I felt out of place by standing here in this parking lot, scowling at myself in frustration in the rearview mirror as I tried to comb my hair into a proper state and constantly checked my makeup for any smudges. Damn, my lipstick looks too dark now that I took a better look at it. I quickly used a napkin from the takeout I ate on the way here and wiped the awfully deep red from my lips. I gave up on my hair. It was a whirlwind of tangled curls and opted to pulled it back in a neat ponytail.

Giving myself another look in the mirror, I let out an irritated moan and rolled my eyes at the pathetic sight of a girl trying to perfect her look to impress a stranger I never heard of until the day before. It wasn't like I am a bombshell or anything. I was just another pale, blue-eyed blonde who grew up from the streets and often mistaken for a hooker from the red light district all because people, men in general, tend to think of me as another Paris Hilton. How stereotypical of them.

Glancing outside of the window, I could see the ridiculously tall, towering building made out of polished glass and the parking lot was filled with new shiny models of cars that are trending for the year. My glossy yet beat-up 67' Chevrolet Impala stood out like a sore thumb among them, making me more uncomfortable with the unwanted attention I am getting from men in suits and women in blazers. I am completely out of my element.

I let out a low groan as I slumped back into my seat, tapping on the steering wheel with my black-painted nails, hoping that the deeper I shrink down, the more impossible it would be for people to spot me. It usually works when I'm caught in a busy crowd. Being only five foot gives an amazing advantage of invisibility.

 _I hate you, Riley_ , I thought bitterly.

Riley Eleanor Matthews; she is my best friend, my only friend in my life, and is also my roommate. I met her a couple of day after my fifth birthday. The way we met was by far the most unbelievable way told because it is not everyday you tell people you encountered your soul friend by climbing through her window when you heard her singing and looking like the more rarest of innocence to be found in a horrid world like today. Every time we tell people how we met, we'd leave them speechless because it is absurd but I know it is not due to the story but because of who she and I are.

You see, I grew up in a rough neighborhood in Greenwich Village. The kind where there are real hookers who wait at the corners of the street are living in the apartment room above yours and you could hear their business overnight, where the only police department within the radius are on a payroll with the gangs who own the territory, where kids are already learning to roll up a joint, and where pedophiles hide in to avoid the society that has ridiculed them through media. I was part of it all, a witness to the sinful things at such a young age, and I gained my own reputation in the midst of it all.

I was known at the untrustworthy rebel, a street rat, who would con people into giving me free food or money, a danger to the community and the crush of all hopes to any new generation. I was one of the most disliked kid in the neighborhood. Especially to those who lived in high society. I was a menace, according to them, who reeked havoc like a lowlife bum, making them despise me whenever they see me. Children feared me, adults loathed me, and lawmen would abhor me for the constant call complaints about me.

I was soon nicknamed the Anarchist. It was not original. I was a star to any known rebel within the area and the antagonist to other civilians. I enjoyed the respect my name provided me - I reveled in the legacy. I was wild, unrestrained, and I was heading down a deep, uncertain path in life where I won't have chances to make things right again. The was the way it was for me and I thought I would live in a life like that but then time changed everything one day when I heard singing coming through a window and I found myself lured towards it.

And that was when Riley came into my life. She was in a more secure and friendlier side of Greenwich Village. One where you could wake up to birds chirping outside your window instead of sirens blaring, where you could go to the dining table full of plates of home cooked meals and a family waiting for you to start their prayers for the day, where you could plead for a toy to have on your birthday or that Christmas and get it, or where you could get your dream car a day early of your sixteenth birthday.

Riley is my exact polar opposite. She is a bubbly girl who is outgoing with her friends, cheerful even about the most trivial things occurring to her, holds an incredibly high optimism, has a strong intelligence in the maths and science, and she could be sensitive about specific topics about herself but that does not seem to stop her from voicing her opinions in political views and feminism. The only downside of her lifestyle is that she has been a bit spoiled by her parents when she was younger is that it made her an idealist and she expects everyone to live up to her expectations, maybe even considered lofty if you like. These are the many traits are what made her into the awkward, successful woman I've seen her grow into.

The boys in our school would go after her like a lost puppy. All kinds would be captivated by her. Jocks, nerds, mechanics, and fitness freaks. Some believed to be in love with her, others would be in lust with her. I won't deny that she is gorgeous; with her heart-shaped, light complexion, and slim and marginally athletic physique, she is quite the sight of natural beauty. And the fact that she is almost, always healthy makes her twice the catch.

At least she was until today when she has chosen to be victimized by the flu. Stuffy nose, clogged throat, and watery eyes, therefore, she cannot be present for the interview she worked months to arrange with some profitable tycoon I'd hear girls squeal about at the sight of a picture of him in a magazine cover and give me a migraine. After a couple of tries of persuasion and constant begging, I reluctantly agreed under the condition that she bought me a new supply of photography film and paint kits.

I should be back at the apartment working on my project for the art festival that is being held at NYU and impress a mysterious guest artist who is looking for an apprentice, but no - I have to waste my gas to drive 5.3 miles to Upper East Side, New York to make sure she doesn't lose her interview some wealthy CEO of Friar International Trade Inc. I don't really know what it is that he does to reach where he is but apparently it gives him a busy schedule where every second is critical and he somehow managed to grant Riley an interview. A thoughtful man, she told me. I'm sure he is, or he just wanted to get her out of his hair for good.

I still remember how she looked earlier; covered up into a bundle of a heavy blanket, huddled up into the cushions of the couch, hacking her lungs out into a used tissue, and snorting up the phlegm covering up her nose.

"I love you - I love _you_ \- I _love_ you!" Riley repeated exasperatedly in a raspy voice while clasping her hands together, her cheeks a deep red. "You don't know how much this means to me, Peaches. Did I mentioned how much I love you lately? Because I really love you."

I don't know how she does it. Even looking ill, nearly on the brink of death, she looked adorable with her glassy eyes, rimmed and baggy, and her cocoa brown hair looking like it had gone through an electrical surge. She could even bring out her sincerity through her sore throat.

"Just don't die while I'm out," I said with a sigh, internally kicking myself. The slightest bit of regret was beginning to form in the pit of my stomach knowing I have no choice but to go through my agreement with her. "Do you have everything you need to get better? Nyquil? Chicken soup? Enough rest?"

"I just drank a shot of Nyquil so I'll be out like a light by the time you're heading there. And I didn't throw up any of the soup I just finished eating. Do you have everything?"

I held up the notepad and digital recorder she handed me earlier. "Professional reporter for a day, at your service. Anything I need to know?"

"If you feel like he says something that seem too important, write it down, even if you have the recorder. Aside from that, just ask the questions I have written down for you and make sure the recorder catches them all and clearly. That is important. Don't worry about writing down any big notes - I'll transcribe them all."

I slumped my shoulders. "Should I really be doing this? I don't know a thing about the guy. All I know is that girls are willing to drop their panties for him if he asks them to. Are you sure nobody from your class can cover up for you?"

"The only one in my class who is willing to do this is Missy Bradford and you know how I feel about her. She doesn't like me and I have no doubt that she will put her name on this project because it is the biggest one for anyone in our class to get. I can't lose this opportunity out of desperation. That's why I need you to do this for me."

"Fine," I groaned, rolling my eyes. "Anything else?"

Riley seemed hesitant and gave me a sheepish smile. "I don't want to seem rude, honey, and you know I have no problems with the way your style is but could you dress a little more...appropriate?"

I raised a brow. "Appropriate?"

"I know, I know!" she squeaked out. "But, as much as I hate to say it, appearance speaks volumes in the journalism business. If we don't look the part then we won't be taken seriously. And, unfortunately, they won't look twice at someone who has your kind of style. You're suppose to seem approachable, not...intimidating."

Crossing my arms, I smirked mischievously while glancing down at my choice of outfit. A red band tee shirt with a pair of black ripped jeans and some combat boots I found lying around under my bed. To complete it all is my trademark leather jacket that was once owned by my stepfather and I've worn since high school.

"I like it," I said proudly.

"And I like it too," she responded. "But, please, please, please, just this once, Maya, dress up in something different. Just this once. You know I never tell you to change if it wasn't so important."

I sucked in air through my teeth. "Alright. I'll see what I can find in my closet that's interview worthy. I promise."

Riley lets out a relieved sigh. "Thank you so much. Seriously, I love you."

"And don't you forget it. Anyway, I'm going. Get back to bed." I stared at her fondly as I gathered up my backpack and gave her a quick kiss on her head before I left the germ-infested living room. A part of me could not believe that I let Riley convince me into this but then again she is studying to be an excellent journalist and I have no doubt that she will reach the tops of her career. Also, because I am willing to do anything for her because I love this peppy girl.

And now I am found in a parking lot, double-checking everything again to make sure I have all that I need and left my car. I tugged down the skirt - the only decent one I could find that won't be frowned upon in this side of New York society - that hit above my knees and smoothed out my red tank top. I tugged my leather jacket closer to my frame. I was not going to leave home without it; I don't think I ever wore an outfit without it. It is like a good luck charm to me and I feel like I'm going to need it for today.

I walked up towards the glass doors to the building lobby and held my breath as my eyes stared up at the tall building. Above the entrance was the initials, FITI, of the company in bold style engraved in steel. I quickly glanced at the screen of my iPhone to see I arrived twenty minutes early, bringing a rush of relief since I know I have the tendency of being late to such occasions, and I quickly entered the building as I released my breath.

Inside the building, I was stunned into numbness. The lobby was like an elegant art carved in the hands of a master, no, a genius; the walls were a cloud white shade and the floor was a gleaming black marble that I could practically see my reflection casting off of it. There was no spec of dirt found on it, not even a grain. I could even hear the clacking of my heels echoing off the walls as I head over to the reception desk. It was not frightening or intimidating but it was not exactly the warmest place to feel welcomed to and the classically dressed people seen walking across the place were not exactly helping as they would glance at me in bewilderment, silently judging me through their eyes.

Behind the gray-surfaced desk with a fish tank beneath is young, attractive and neatly groomed redhead woman who immediately forced a false polite smile once she spotted me. She was wearing a royal blue spaghetti strap dress that showed a little bit of cleavage and the darkest shade of brown lipstick that seemed horrible in contrast to her light skin. She looked like she was trying too hard to get attention.

"May I help you?" she asked, her eyes scrutinizing me intently.

I cleared my throat. "I have a meeting with Mr. Friar. I'm standing in for Riley Matthews. My name is Maya Ha - Hunter."

She arches her thick eyebrow at me as I tugged on my leather and then began to type in the keyboard of the fancy computer set in front of her. A part of me was beginning to wish I borrowed one of Riley's formal dresses instead of my casual outfit. I felt this was a smart choice in the beginning but seeing how much I stood out in this crowd of sophisticated people with advanced vocabulary and a calculator for a brain, I looked like a sheep-meal for a pack of wolves. I tuck a lock of my hair behind my ear whilst I waited for her to stop typing. The continuous clicking of the keys was making me feel paranoid.

"Ah, yes, a Miss Matthews is expected for an interview expected at noon." She smiled dully as she ran a manicured finger over the list of events. She hands me a clipboard with a sign-in sheet and a fountain pen. "Please sign in here, Miss Hunter. When you're done, you will take the third elevator on the left and press for the fiftieth floor," she added as she watched me sign in.

She then gave me a security pass that has "VISITOR" labeled on the front. I resisted the urge to let out an unlady-like snort. As if I needed a badge to state the obvious. Clearly I am visiting - I don't fit in here at all. I didn't say much so I vaguely smiled at her before I walked to the row of elevators and kept my gaze forward as I passed the line of security guards at each door, who remind me of those England guards with their stiff posture.

The ride up to the fiftieth floor was not fast enough for me with all the stops but I managed to get there in record time and when I stepped on my floor, I found myself in another large lobby identical to the one below. There was another young woman with jet black hair that was glossy and lots of volume. The only difference was that she was dressed in a, what seems expensive to me, long-sleeved dress.

At the sound of the elevator letting out a ding, she rose up to greet me and put on a pleasant smile as she held a designed hand to me. I complied.

"Miss Hunter?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Friar will see you in a minute. Could you wait here, please?" She gestured to the resting area of brown leather chairs.

It looked more like a viewing spot of New York City. Behind the chairs was a glass wall painted by the reality of my home, an excellent sight of the Empire State Building seen being shined upon by the beaming sunlight and I could see the George Washington Bridge on the other side, hovering over the Hudson River that is a glistening dark blue. Above the area was what seems like a skyline where I could see the clear sky of the day with a few faded clouds floating along. It was simple, it was the same thing I see every day, but I felt like I was closer and I could see the details that happen in it better than the small window at my apartment. Wow.

After a temporary fascination, I sit down at the chair closest to the glass wall, pull out the questions from my raggedy bag, and skim through them, cursing Riley to the fiery pits of Hades for giving me a hazy explanation about this stranger. I know absolutely nothing about this man. I don't even know how old he is. For all I know, he could be sixty or eighty, or he could be a pedophile on the low. _Ew, no_. I shuddered at that thought. _Way to boost yourself up, Hart_. I wanted to smack myself for that. _Hunter! You're a Hunter now! Maya Hart is no more!_

A ringing from the phone behind the desk brought me out of my mind and made me look back up to the woman behind it. I never noticed it before until I looked at her more thoroughly; all the women who work here are young and gorgeous. They each have different hair color, wore an exaggerated amount of layered makeup, and their hairs are pinned up. Was this a trend for the high class? Or did this Mr. Friar have a specific taste he like in women? That could not be true because they are all kinds of races in here from Hispanic to Asians to African-American. Maybe he likes to taste the rainbow.

I fingered the corner of the page of questions as I tried to distract myself from the bizarre discovery. This interview just became extremely uncomfortable for me. I'd rather be surrounded with Riley's company, curled up in bed, with her writing in her laptop and a random show of hers playing on Netflix, while I blended colors for a piece I decided to work on. Not sitting in the inside of a statue structure with multi-colored doppelgangers roaming around at every corner. I figured with the struggle Riley went through to set up this interview, it won't last long. If Mr. Friar is as busy as I told he was, this would be over quicker than I could blink, I hope.

I am curious, however, at how he might look like. Seeing as how modern the building looked from outside and inside, I can imagine it to be a middle-aged man. He must be. It would make sense for someone to be in the business to be able to gain a reputation and acquire an expansive amount of fortune. He could be like those stuffy and overly done enigmatic men I've seen on TV with a combed-back hair, a few strands of gray here and there, and a trimmed stubble that would make him seem irresistible. At least, that is the closest to a businessmen I've pictured. And if he was anything like those guys in those shows, this interview has already gone down the drain.

He better not be an ass. I puffed out air. That would be a problem if he is. I don't handle well with arrogant people who are so high up the pedestal and think they're the ruler of the world. I tend to have a loose tongue if I feel threatened or disrespected - a trait that would have very well gotten me expelled in high school if it hadn't been for Riley's father's persuasive words to the principal at the time. _Think of Riley. Doing it for Riley. Important to Riley. Think of Riley. Doing it for Riley. Important to Riley_. I just kept that mantra in my head in hopes it would help me get through this nightmare.

Just then, another flawless, gracefully dressed woman comes out of the large door behind the desk. This one is a natural brunette with blonde highlights in the bottom. Again, what is it with all of these women being so young? Are they even legal to work here? I feel like I stepped in a hidden stripper's joint and a show is going to start at any second now. I took a deep breath to hold back the bile I felt rising up as I stood up.

"Miss Hunter?" the brunette asked.

"That's me."

"Mr. Friar will be with you shortly. He's currently finishing a meeting. Would you like me to take your...jacket?"

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at her as I tugged my jacket closer to me, noticing the disapproval and obvious disbelief in her tone when she eyed at it. Why this little -

"No, thank you," I answered coolly.

She pursed her lips. "Very well. May I offer you some refreshments as you wait?"

 _She sounds so monotone. Robotic, much?_ I shrugged nonchalantly. "Got any Scotch in here?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Hunter, but Mr. Friar doesn't allow any alcohol here. We only have water, juice, and soda. Would any of these benefit you in some way?"

I raised a brow. _So much for a high-class establishment_.

"I guess water is fine," I said.

"Excellent." She seemed eager to walk away from me as she turned and scurried her way back to the room she came out of.

I glanced up at the skyline. The clouds were gone; a flock of birds are seen flapping to the opposite direction of an airplane. I quickly took out my phone, opened the camera app, and took a quick snap of the sight before I observed the picture. It was decent but it was enough for my liking. With the glass, the birds and the plane were not in the best quality but it was the angle of the view is what gave it an appealing vibe.

The brunette returned a minute later with a glass of iced water and a slice of lemon on the rim. _Oh, now they're living up to their expectations._

"Here you go, Miss Hunter," she said as she handed me the glass.

"Thanks."

"If you need anything else, just tell Charlotte and I'll come." She walked away without another word, her high heels clacking too loud across the marble floor, and disappeared behind the large door.

I barely heard a word she told me as I took a sip of water, cringing slightly at the cherry taste splashing over my tongue. _Rich people water_. I discreetly poured the rest in a soil pot of a plant nearby and placed the glass on the coaster on the oak table before I looked at the busied woman buried in her computer screen whilst she spoke in the phone. I was beginning to wonder if this man has some sort of fetish about these sorts of women when the tall doors of the main office open and out came out an African-American man, dressed in a slick black suit and a lopsided grin on his full lips. I am definitely underdressed.

He shakes a hand that reached out to him, the grin never leaving his face, and laughed merrily. "It's good to see you again, man. You're coming to the basketball game this weekend, right?'

I heard a low murmur and this man nodded before he turned away as the door shuts closed. He halts for a second when he saw me at the waiting area and sends me a kind smile with a nod, his dark eyes the sweetest thing I've encountered all day. I send back a small one. I never said I was good at being social. He then turns to the dark haired woman, Charlotte, at the desk and the smile slowly carved into a flirtatious smirk.

"Hey there, sugar," he said. I couldn't help but noticed that he held an accent - a little Southern, if I'm not wrong. "Would you mind letting Miss Martin know I'm on my way out?"

"O-of course, Mr. Babineaux," Charlotte squeaked out with a little giggle. She dialed in her phone and was murmuring in the speaker, her eyes wandering over his torso with a gleam of hunger bouncing off her pupils. After a minute, she was off the phone. "She is getting your car right now, sir."

"Thanks sweetheart, you're a saint," he responded. "Have a good one."

He walks away from the desk the same time the elevator doors slide open and he steps inside the cart. I didn't bother to watch him leave.

"Miss Hunter? Mr. Friar will see you now." called the dark haired receptionist. She gestured her hand to the partially opened door. "He's been informed of you so you can go right in."

Gathering my backpack, I made my way to the gigantic double doors while repeated in my head, Don't screw this up for Riley. Don't screw this up for Riley. Don't screw this up for Riley. I considered running out of here but I could see I didn't have a chance to do so when this interview wasn't even for me and I know I would never hear the end of it from Riley. I guess I'll just have to fight the bull and get the horns rather than face the wrath of Riley Matthews.

Taking in a deep breath, I pulled open the door and peeked inside.

I could see him standing by the glass wall behind his black steel desk, his back turned to me, mumbling quietly to himself as he read over a stack of papers in his hands. he flipped the form closed to shove it in the drawer of his desk and his attention diverted away from his task when he heard me enter his office. I was stuck on the spot, my hand on the cool handle as he looked up to acknowledged my presence.

 _Holy shit_.

He was not what I expected.

My dead heart suddenly sprung into life and is now fluttering like wild wings as I absorbed in the sight of this unbelievably young man standing a few feet away from me. He was far but I could see he does not have a single wrinkle on his face. He screamed youth. How old was this guy? I couldn't figure it out as my line of questioning stopped once I find myself gawking idiotically at him from the doorway of his office.

How awfully young and charming - very, very handsome. His sandy brown hair was groomed neatly, his bone structure was strong and defined. His tan complexion seemed warm but his greeting smile was captivating, revealing his perfectly aligned whites. He was too tall, probably enough to tower a foot above me, dressed in a pitch-black suit, pure white shirt, and a matching tie.

He moved around the desk to approach me in a confident stride, giving me a clearer glimpse of his impeccable appearance. I find myself staring at him longer than necessary as his gaze met mine with the most surreal shade of green that could ever exist. Soft like foam, glistening like emeralds, and natural like nature. They were warm but I was frozen.

This was not just a young man - he was a stud. He looked like he came out of those Calvin Klein commercials.

"Miss Matthews," he greeted kindly. _Oh God_. His voice was deep and husky. The sound made my ears vibrate in delight. I think I could hear the same tone that Mr. Babineaux has only I could surely hear the Southern accent.

He extended his hand to me and I, in a daze, place mine in his for a shake. The moment our fingers brushed, his touch sent an exhilarating rush of shivers in my skin as a thousand volts of electricity thrummed in my veins. I thought I might be swaying under the adrenaline. I withdraw my hand, perplexed.

"Miss Matthews fell ill so she sent me as her replacement," I corrected him.

"And you are?" He cocked his head to one side. His voice lacked criticism. He looked highly amused, his smile shrunk into an entertained smirk, but above all, he seemed mostly interested.

"I'm Maya Hunter, sir," I said formally. It is an instinct to I've developed from handling so many rude customers in the coffee shop I work in. Not to mention, I got it from the man who came into my life and raised me as his own daughter to shape me up into the woman I am now. There isn't much change but I am an improvement compared to the past.

"Do you work in the same area as Miss Matthews?" he inquired.

"No, actually, Riles is my roommate and best friend," I explained. "We go to NYU together but she's the one studying journalism. I'm an Arts Major."

"I see," he said casually. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Hunter. I'm Lucas Friar."

My answer seem to intrigue him. His cheeks rose as his amiable smile was back. But it was his eyes that I couldn't seem to pull away from. Seriously, how old was this guy? How is it possible to look this young and run an entire corporation? Something this big should bring out stress wrinkles, gray hair, and even make his eyes look wary but he was reborn.

"Would you like a seat?" he insisted, waving his hand at one of the chairs in front of his desk.

I was awestruck by the size of the office now that I am focusing on it more. It was much too large for just one man to work in. In front of the glass was a black surface desk in contrast to the bright room. Everything was white - the walls, the ceiling. The things that were different was the dark floor, the matching chairs, and the one wall that was covered by a masterpiece I didn't think I'd have the privilege to stand in front of. It was an exquisite splosh of colors thrown together into a blended tornado that somehow managed to make such a creative picture of life and leaving the admirer breathless.

Mr. Friar noticed my stare. "I assume you know this piece, Miss Hunter?"

"Claude Monet's famous Water Lilies," I breathed out. "He did two-hundred- and fifty paintings to decipher the water lily pond from his backyard. The only way you could see it is by perspective. Some people focus too hard on the details to look at the bigger picture and miss the most obvious detail in front of them."

"That's quite an impressive observation, Miss Hunter, I couldn't agree more," he replied in a soft tone, and his voice somehow managed to force a blush out of me.

Aside from the painting, the whole office seems dull and not so fascinating. I feel like I'm standing in the principal's office of those high-maintenance private schools. It makes me ponder if this stiff atmosphere represents the personality of Steve Grand over here who just sat down in his gray leather chair and has his chin cupped in his hand, staring at me expectantly with his bright green eyes.

Somehow understanding the question in his eyes, I took in the invitation to sit in the chairs in front of him and crossed my legs. I should be concern that my skirt at ridden up slightly but I was never bothered to expose a bit of my skin. My mother always told me to be self-reliant of my assets but to still have respect in myself.

"Just to give you a little heads up, Mr. Friar, I've never done this before," I said as I pulled out Riley's questions and the digital recorder from my backpack. "So bear with me."

"Take all the time you need, Miss Hunter," he responded. "I don't have to be in my next minute for thirty minutes."

"No pressure, right?" I mumbled sarcastically.

"No pressure," he snickered.

I look up from the notepad to see he is now leaning against the desk, one hand tapping its finger against the surface while the other hand still held his chin, trailing his long finger along the outline of his cupid's bow.

"Before I start," I said as I tried to figure out how the damn recorder work, cursing myself for not asking Riley beforehand. "Could you explain to me what Riley's interview is about?"

"Of course. I'm here to speak for the business column in the Washington Square Newspaper talking about the benefits a member of the board could bring to one's life and I shall be attending the grand opening of the art exhibit in the Towers Hotel due to my donations to the events."

I stopped fumbling with the recorder and snap my head up to look at him in shock, wondering if it was my mind playing tricks with me. This was news to me. The grand opening of the art exhibit was something I've been blowing up Riley's ear with ever since my teacher told me about it one time after class. The downside is that I couldn't afford an invitation to the event. I am also surprised to learn that someone who is not older than me is the reason behind those donations that helped make it possible and the fact I am talking to the man himself.

"Huh, I didn't know that," I mumbled as I went back to figuring out the recorder.

"Will you be attending the event, Miss Hunter? Seeing as you have a passion for the art, I assume I'll be expecting you there admiring Sandro Botticelli and Georges Suerat."

I snorted. "In another life maybe." I finally got to get the recorder working and placed it on the desk before I flipped the notepad to the first bag. "Anyway, let's begin, shall we?"

"Very well. " He seemed a bit discouraged. "What is your first question?"

I shifted my weight and cleared my throat. "Mr. Friar when you started your business, you were only twenty-years-old. What was the motivation behind you starting your own trading company?"

His smile became miffed, but he didn't seem upset as he answered, "War. The world works with greed, Miss Hunter, and mankind is willing to go beyond their limits if it means they get what they want. I've been on the other side of war so I know what people think, what drives them, what scares them, and what they desire. My employees, although are rewarded well in my company, are here for the same thing with personal purposes I will not speak about."

"You seem to live off a fantasy that you're Midas or something," I blurted out. I couldn't stop myself for speaking out, not when he seemed rather arrogant and acts so highly of himself to the point he seems to have a stick up his ass.

Something changed in his stare in me. "I have a strong belief in having a perfect routine that works for everybody in their own way. It was difficult but manageable. But once I've learned the key to how people work, I gained the knowledge of the in's, the loopholes if you may call it. Work became a second instinct to me with all the logic I got from years of experience and I formed a natural gut instinct whenever a have a decision to make, hiring new people into the company, and coming up with ways to keep the place a well running machine. In the end of it all, it's all about knowing things."

"And how do you know it's the right thing for this company?" That question wasn't any of Riley's - I was actually curious to see how his mind worked. Call me nosey, if you like. The corners of his lips twitched slightly.

"I'm sure you have information about my educational history in your questionnaire, Miss Hunter, so I'm sure you know that I studied Psychology in Oxford University. Therefore, I could see who has their mind set for the intentions I have for this company and find the right people to run under my name. I remember a quote I heard that I still live off to this day. What was it?" he paused momentarily, closing his eyes in contemplation, licking his pink lips. "Ah, yes, _'If your actions inspire others to dream more, learn more, do more, and become more, you are a leader.'_ John Quincy Adams - an excellent man. Best example to name a school."

My eyes widen slightly as my heartbeat quickens erratically and I am sure my face is pale of all colors. It isn't possible that this man is discreetly telling me where he studied before high school because it would be too much of a coincidence. It would also be a cliche for me to reunite with an old classmate who became a worldwide-known businessman. _There's absolutely no way!_

"What school would that be, if I may ask?" I asked.

"John Quincy Adams Middle School."

 _Oh, fuck me_. I groaned inwardly.

He became confused. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," I quickly said, scribbling in his answer for the first question before flipping the page for the next one. "Aside from preventing war, what else inspired you?"

"Hmm…" He pondered the question as he tapped his chin, which I realized is quite chiseled. "The list is endless to me. I can mostly likely say that my real inspiration would have to be my grandfather, Pappy Joe. He is a war hero and he raised me as his own. He taught me everything about discipline, domination, and restraint. Three most important things in life. If it weren't for him, I don't think I wouldn't be where I am now."

Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I mentioned, "You sound like a control freak. Something tells me you like having it. Discipline requires control to learn, domination needs control to overtake, and restraint needs control to, well, to hold down."

Those words came out of my mouth before I realized. It wasn't intentional. It was just an observation I happen to point out. I really need to learn how to keep my mouth shut or I'll end up risking this interview for Riley and she'll be upset with me. But, surprisingly, Mr. Friar did not seem bothered with my statement.

"Control is a vital tool to me," he replied, no trace of humor found in his voice. I look at him, the tone capturing my attention, and I felt my heartbeat quicken in anticipation as he holds my gaze, an impassive haze over his, and I felt irritated at the fact my face flushes.

Why am I acting like some lovesick schoolgirl? Why am I thinking like one? Most importantly, why am I letting this stranger of a control freak get the better of me? Maybe it was his overwhelmingly structured good looks? The way how his eyes would be innocently simple yet they deliver such an impact? Or maybe it was the way his marble lips with twitch as he smirked criminally? God, I wish he'd stop doing that. Man, I am really pathetic.

"Absolute management is what helps me keep everything running smoothly such as personal lives or confidential secrets," he continued, his voice unwavered.

"How do you get to be in a powerful position running a top company like yours?"

Keeping my curiosity was a failure. I keep on asking questions that weren't on Riley's list, not even the highlighted ones, but I'm sure I might get a free pass because these sound like impressive information she could write for her article if she approves of it (she obviously will).

Mr. Friar shifted and leaned as far forward as he possibly could on to his desk. "I've been told I can be a persuasive person, Miss Hunter. Of course I cannot do everything in my company by my own but I can ensure that the sixty thousand plus people I've employed do their jobs here. It is tedious to have that kind of responsibility - power, as you call it. If I didn't use my tactics then the ten countries who are allied to the US are most likely to run against us if we do not reach their expectations and desires. Plus the other countries who have recently come to truce with each other. I rather not be the cause of sending my home in flames."

My mouth drops open. That's basically the whole world. I quickly looked down at the question I've neglected to speak about and quickly scrolled for one that is non-business related. My finger stopped on one.

"Even though the media does cover up on your work life and of your whereabouts, do you have any other interests that hasn't been known?" I asked and glanced up at him again. The arrogant smirk of his faded away.

"If you're talking about my social life, I very much like to keep it private. What I do in my personal life for my pleasure is only for me. I like to keep it the way it is."

I raised a quizzical brow. "I don't think the question is asking whether you do murder in your sleep, Mr. Friar. I'm sure Riley wanted to know what hobbies do you do to keep yourself relaxed and distracted from your business life. You know, chill out."

" _Chill out_?" he chuckles merrily, his smile wide enough to reveal his teeth.

I stopped breathing for a second as I took in the sight; this man is truly beautiful. He was like a lost piece to a struggling artist who never got the chance for their perspective in life to be seen. I wanted to paint him. Taking a picture of him with my phone would be too weird and make me seem like a stalker.

"Well, to keep myself relaxed and distracted, as you put it - I like to play basketball with my friends, I like going for morning runs, I like to go horseback riding, and other physical pastimes." He crossed his arms. "I may be a wealthy man, Miss Hunter, but I don't like to do the things society expects me to do at my own time. I like to do things that I like."

"Do you go square dancing too?"

I wanted to kick myself - I need to sew my mouth closed. I couldn't help myself when I see an opportunity to comment about this guy, I have to take it. Everything about him was very Southern; his manners, his interests, and his accent. He is like a full-born cowboy. I never met one in person and I expected him to wear plaid, those pointy cowboy boots, a buckle larger than his own hands, and, to put the icing on the cake, a cowboy hat.

But his response left me bewildered; he laughed. I was shocked. Normally people would lash out on me for my snide remarks or call me out for being rude about their heritage but this guy was the complete opposite. He actually seemed amused, as if he was enjoying it. I'm too guarded up to believe he is not the least bit offended. I'm waiting for the security guards to come in and drag me away in shame.

"No, I don't square dance. At least, I don't unless I go back home to Texas for a family reunion.

he snickered, shaking his head. "You have a...peculiar sense of humor, Miss Hunter,"

 _Aha! He is a real cowboy!_ I gave him a sarcastic smile. "It's my pride and joy."

Mr. Friar didn't say anything, instead, he stared at me with stoic eyes and a ghost smile. I shifted in my chair, uncrossing then crossed my legs again, as I flipped through the notepad. Tension suddenly suffocated the office. I could see now why he went into business. He knows the right words to say, he stands tall with a sense of leadership, he holds a likeable attitude, he is a gorgeous man, and he is intimidating. Too much, if you ask me. God have mercy on the souls who have wronged him. Despite his heartfelt moments and kind smile, he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would take no for an answer and he will go at any angle to get a yes out of a person even if it meant ruining their career in the process.

I just want this interview to be over, go home, make a nice BLT sandwich, watch Dean Winchester in the new episode of Supernatural, and never see this man again. Surely I gathered enough material for Riley to write for a fantastic article in the history of NYU. I glance at the next line.

"It says here you were an orphan at the Children's Shelter and you weren't adopted until age nine."

Mr. Friar quickly rose from his chair and walked around his enormous desk while fixing his tie. His face did not give away his emotions yet it got my heart accelerating twice its rate as I watched him come to a full stop in front of me and leaned against his desk, his hands clutching on the edges hard enough for his veins to pop up once in awhile.

"That's an invasion of personal information, Miss Hunter," he pointed out, his tone clipped. _Shit._ I should have done some last-minute research on him to avoid this awkward moment. Yet, during the oddity, I had boldness to give him a glare because my aggravation with this guy and his multiple personality was beginning to boil over.

"Hey, I'm just reading what Riley wrote down," I retorted. "Keep your hat on, Ranger Rick."

His brow rose up. " _Ranger Rick_?"

"Suits well for the cowboy who traveled a long from Texas on his trusted steed and still keeping tabs on all the hoedowns and pageants?" I mocked in the best country voice I could muster up with a phony smile while doing a hilarious gesture with my arms that I usually see country boys do whenever they are overexcited and then leaned back in my chair, my smile morphed into one of satisfaction.

Except my moment of gratification was short-lived when his mouth quirked up into a small smile and his green eyes soften, his finger tapping on the edge of his desk as he scrutinized me appraisingly. My smile fell.

"I see," he said after a minute passed. "Well, is there anything _you_ like to ask me, Miss Hunter? Do you have any questions of your own?" Mr. Friar cocked his head to the side and his gentle sea-green eyes forcefully pierced their way into my soul like a sharp knife. His smirk is back. I pressed my together tighter and I drew in a breath.

"Not really. I didn't know a thing about you until today," I shrugged nonchalantly. If Riley were here, she would know the right thing to say in this hard position I've been pulled into. Damn her for getting sick at the last minute.

"Isn't there anything you're curious to know about?"

"Um," I whacked my brain for a question, thinking if I went along with his charade then perhaps we could get back on track and finish this interview so I can go home faster. "In Riley's notes, it says you're unmarried and was voted the most eligible bachelor for four years straight. Are you gay?"

All the colors in his face washed away as the smirk dropped and appeared onto my face. I get so much pleasure in other people's displeasure. I'm still bothered by him for his crude behavior earlier. I leaned back into my chair again, content, and chewed on the tip of my pen. I thought I heard an intake of breath from him but I figured it was my ego getting the better of me.

"No, Maya, I am not gay," he answered coolly, an odd gleam in his eyes. He moved away from his chair and gracefully sat down on the chair next to me, the new close proximity making me sit upright on instinct. I was never good at people being close into my personal space and these chairs were not making it easier for me. "Is there a reason why you're so curious about my relationship status?"

"I didn't ask if you were single, Mr. Friar," I remarked. "I asked if you were into men - there is a difference."

"Which also implies whether if I am in a relationship with a man or a woman," he countered. "Therefore, you asked me, indirectly, if I am involved with someone."

"Or it's because I don't know anything about you."

His lips pursed together and he has an impassive look on his face that is causing a round of shivers to crawl over my spine, making goose bumps to rise on my skin. It's a good thing I'm wearing my leather jacket.

"That is because I like to be a private person," he said. "As I said before, I do not disclose my personal life. Do you have any other questions that are not directed to my personal life, Miss Hunter?"

 _Oh, we're back to 'Miss Hunter' now_. This was the most confusing guy to exist on planet Earth. The change of the atmosphere was constant in the spacing office. One minute he was strictly all about business and the next he was playful. It was next to impossible to read him out or to figure out how he would react to me. It was like nothing I threw at him could not break him - I hate that.

A soft knock came from the door and popped in the same brunette from earlier. She was holding a tray of refreshments as she walked towards us and placed it on the table in front of us before she smoothed out her skirt then turned to us, or only Mr. Friar, with a polite smile.

"Mr. Friar, your next appointment is in two minutes," she informed.

I kept my eyes on my notes, marking the next questions I should ask for the last minutes of this nightmare, and idly doodled around the margins.

"Please, tell my next appointment that we would have to reschedule. Miss Hunter and I are not finished here," he demanded. I glanced up through my lashes to see that he has not taken his eyes off of me when he said this and I thought my head would explode from all the blood rushing into it. I was embarrassed. I don't like it when people look at me in the eyes.

"Yes, Mr. Friar," the brunette answers before she exits without another word.

I opened my mouth to protest but he quickly said, "Please continue, Miss Hunter."

What else would he want me to ask about? I'm quite sure I pulled out enough information from him for the both of us to part ways. It was clear his life was in high demand being in the field of business and all. I know his priorities for the other high-class people are more important on his list than some silly interview for a local school newspaper. The fact he rescheduled an appointment with someone who could have helped him in advance with his company was unbelievable. Wasn't he tired of my sarcasm or badgering? Doesn't he want this interview done with like I do?

"Um," I stalled for a second. "It says here that your brother, Farkle Minkus, owns his own company which used to be your father's. Despite for both being for different purposes, do you work together from time to time? And do you like working with him?"

"Working with my brother can be a challenge at times but that comes with who you decide to work with. We both have different views on how to run a company but we both want the same thing. I believe that is why it is good for us to have separate companies instead. He is more of a believer in scientific facts and I am more of a dreaming kind of believer."

"It seems like you don't normally see eye to eye."

He exhaled sharply. "We're brothers. It's bound to happen." He then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he tangled his fingers together. "Enough about me for a minute, Miss Hunter. I want to know more about you. I think it's only fair to learn a little bit about the woman who came all this way to interview me."

"There's not much to know about me. Just a college girl taking on the world."

"So you have any plans after you graduate?"

I shrugged, puzzled by his sudden interest in me. "I don't know. I didn't think far ahead - I'm just trying to get through my finals right now." _Which I should be home finishing right now, rather than sitting in your cleansed, well-decorated, and built office, feeling like a helpless prey under your weird gaze._

"You said before that you're an Arts Major. Was it Picasso, Van Gogh, or Da Vinci who made you fall in love with the arts?"

I bite my lip. "Michelangelo."

He smiled softly. "I assumed Picasso. My company is linked to all the universities in New York for those who are interested in business and we offer magnificent internship. If you're pursuing a career in the arts, you will need to learn the basics to sell your pieces. We are still accepting applications if you're interested and I could personally teach you all you will need to know."

I gawked at him in surprise. He couldn't possibly be offering me a job here, could he?

"That's a generous offer, Mr. Friar," I said, perplexed. "But I'll have to decline."

"May I ask why?"

 _Is he serious?_ I licked my lips. "Some people in the working class are meant to stay in the working class while others managed to sneak their way into the high-class society. People like me don't really fit in with people like you. I like where I am."

"I see." His stare was far too intense to bear, all traces of his kind personality disappeared, and a strange contraction was happening in the pit of my stomach. I should look away but I couldn't tear my eyes from him as I tapped my pen against the notepad in a rapid rhythm and bit my lip out of habit. His posture suddenly went stiff and his nostrils flared as his eyes blazed.

"Would you like a tour?"

The obviously isn't an interview anymore so I started to shove my stuff in my backpack then grabbed the recorder, flicked it off, and crammed it in my bag. I hopped up on my feet

"I actually have to get going," I announced. "I need to take care of Riles and have a lot of errands I need to run. Plus, it's going to be a long drive with the traffic."

"Very well," he sighed as he rose up from the chair and holds out his hand. "It was an honor meeting you, Miss Hunter."

"Thank you for giving Riley this interview, Mr. Friar, I'm sure she appreciates it," I said as I shook his hand once more. I tried to not flinch as the same current from before came back only twice the impact. It must be my excitement to finally be free.

"The pleasure is all mine." He gestures a hand to the door - the pathway to my freedom. "Let me walk you out."

He was already walking to the door with an athletic elegance and opens the door for me. I took quick strides out of his office, ignoring the fact that he following me out, one step close behind me with a hand grazing over the middle of my back, as we approached the elevators, or better known as my escape route. From the corner of my eye, I could see the receptionist watching us intently. I sensed some resentment from the young woman, who is glowering at me with red rage. A part of me is thinking that she might have had an affair with Mr. Friar and it is her possessive nature coming out or that she might be jealous to see him with another woman she doesn't recognize.

"Do you have everything your friend needs?" he insisted and held his hand by the call button of the elevator.

"I'm positive, Mr. Friar."

So this was it. I was done. The interview is over and I would never have to spend another walking second with an intimidating yet beautiful man. I won't lie that I could feel my heart sinking knowing this. I will admit that my conversation with him was the most compelling one I had with another man that didn't make me want to pour a smoothie on their head - it has been a long time. But seeing where it was heading, I had to go.

Hitting the call button, the elevator promptly opened and I stepped inside, desperate to run. I really need to get out of here. When I turned to look at him, he was leaning against the outside of the elevator frame with one hand on the wall and the other in the pocket of his slacks. He is really, really enchanting.

"Have a safe drive home, Maya," he said.

He rolled my name off his tongue again. It formed a hard knot to twist painfully inside of me. His cordial personality was enticing, dripping with allure. There is no way this charming man really hoped to see me, a person raised from the streets, again in the future. Judging by all the goddess-like women in his workplace, he will not have the time to think about me again. I give it an hour and I'm just a lost memory.

It was false hope and I don't do that.

Hope is for suckers.

"Goodbye, Lucas."

And thank God, at that moment, the door chose to close.

* * *

 **Please Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I do not own Girl Meets World, the characters, the locations, the songs, and the quotes mentioned. But I do own this plot.

* * *

 _I put a spell on you_

 _Because you're mine_

 _You better stop the things you do_

 _I tell ya I ain't lyin'_

 _I ain't lyin'_

 _You know I can't stand it_

 _You're runnin' around_

 _You know better daddy_

 _I can't stand it 'cause you put me down_

 _Oh no_

 _-_ I Put A Spell On You; Annie Lennox

* * *

 _"Wonder is that possession of the mind that enchants the emotions while never surrendering reason. It is a grasp on reality that does not need constant high points in order to be maintained, nor is it made vulnerable by the low points of life's struggle."_

\- Ravi Zacharias

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Effects**

If tension was all that it took for me to become a track star, I should have used that as my motivation back in high school when Riley forced me to try out for sports, saying extracurricular activities in my transcript would seem impressive for college administrators.

As soon as the elevator doors opened on the main floor, I raced towards the wide glass that would lead me to my desired freedom and suddenly I find myself standing in the spotlight of the daylight of New York City. Raising my head, I embraced the warm, polluted air as I tried to ease down the pounding of my heart and think about everything that happened back in the office, every emotion that went through me.

It has been a long time since a man managed to rattle me up in the way that Lucas Friar has, and it bewildered me that it did happen. He wasn't even that interesting to begin with. Yes, he did have green eyes that held an intensity so enticing. Yes, his smile was charming. Yes, he was quite powerful through wealth and intelligence. And yes, he does dress in sharp suits that make him seem tempting, but I've seen men who held some of these traits and I never felt like the wind was knocked out of me like he did.

What the hell is going on with me? Hormones, perhaps? I suppose my period could be coming two weeks sooner now. I tend to be out of whack when my time comes.

I shake my head as a way to gather up my thoughts before I head over to my car.

* * *

Riley always said I drove crazily like those NASCAR drivers and I never cared, Surprisingly, a cop never pulled me over for going above the speed limit but I never pushed my luck. I cranked up the radio and listened to my Nirvana album while bobbing my head to the drum beats, ignoring the constant honking horns and obnoxious yelling from the other drivers or pedestrians who were cursing me out.

The engine of my car rattled its way to turn the corner that I use as a shortway to my house and I released a relieved, easy breath. This old, beat-up yet magnificent car still somehow managed to have some juice in her to make quick journeys like this. I would have to send her over to Brandon to check on her and give her a tune up. He thinks I should trash it and buy a new car, perhaps one of the newest models, but he didn't understand that this is one of the many things I have to my father.

Brandon is a mechanic who I went to school with and was my detention buddy. My family met him one afternoon when we left to my work from school and he instantly bonded with Shawn. He hoped that I'd somehow end up together with Brandon since he approved of him already due to his knowledge in cars, technology, and in robotics but it never happened. We tried going out on one date and we realized we could never see each other differently when we tried to kiss goodbye at the end of the night. It was awkward. It felt like incest, is what Brandon said, and I agreed.

We stayed as close friends after that and no complications followed.

As I drove, I decided to take a quick detour and took a sharp right, my tires squealing in delight by the burn of rubber. My stomach was giving me complaining growls. I haven't eaten much this morning. There wasn't a good restaurant nearby within my radius and the only one I could think of that makes some edible meals comes across me on this particular road.

Along the way, I thought about the interview with remorse. I felt foolish and somewhat humiliated with the way I left things with Mr. Friar. That cactus-pete-huckleberry-horseback-riding-ranger-rick. He was so annoying. Everything I said would either amuse him or give him absolute pleasure to see me trying hard to counter him. Then he would be cover it all up with such manners and a polite smile, offering me a tour to his exquisite company building, as if he was the perfect gentlemen, acting like he wasn't getting on my nerves before. I would understand that he has his reasons for being so cocky because he has achieved so much in little time at a young age unlike people like me who have to work in minimum wage and pay college classes out of pocket for the sake of reaching a career goal, but I really wanted to smack his smirk off his face.

But then again, I did manage to throw him off a couple of times when I asked him if he was gay or questioned him of his adoption. I grinned at that small victory but then it slipped once I remembered that his answered were too cryptic for me to take satisfaction out of. I growled in irritation. Damn you, Ranger Rick. Every time I think about his reactions, I feel disgruntled. It wasn't enough to my liking.

I turned the volume up to the max, letting the thumping bass of the drums thrum throughout my car, and I stepped down on the accelerator.

* * *

The place was called Nighthawk Diner.

I used to go here when I was a little girl. During those days before I met Riley, I'd sit in the booths on the corner, playing with any loose change I'd find on the floor or folding the napkins in odd shapes I could think of. I would even strike up a conversation with some of the elders who would sit alone in the booth ahead of me or eat at the counter while watching my mother shoot in and out of the kitchen door with the same tray.

It had been a simpler time for the both of us. We didn't live in the best place, we didn't have the best things, and we weren't the best people to be friends with but we somehow made it work to be at ease with the life we were stuck in.

I was parked across from the place and stared at it with sorrowful eyes. This place changed my life drastically. At least for the better. If it weren't for this place, I don't think my mother or I would have gotten to the place where we are. But it doesn't change the fact that it held ghosts from my past that tend to haunt me whenever I pass by it. I don't know why I come back here once in awhile when it gives me this dispiriting effect at the sight of it and those memories come rushing back to me, reminding me of that dark dungeon of helpless hope and gloom I used to reside in.

I sucked in a huge breath before I unbuckled and climbed out of the car. I had to quickly tumble back into the seat when a bicyclist zoomed past me. I grabbed the first thing I reached for, in this case, a used comb from the bottom of my seat, and took aim before I pitched it at his head. I was proud to say that I got the mark; the bicyclist tumbled onto the pavement, his legs tangled with the pedals.

I left him like that with a proud smile and crossed the street to the diner. I clutched on my leather jacket, an instinct for me to pull close something of Shawn to keep me at ease, as my legs carried me through the front door and I was taken back in time to an era where a routine was the only way to live and images defined a person. The diner never changed; it held a 90's vibe with little tables, the red leather stools and chairs, the posters of barbeque meals, a small order window behind the counter and a shelf of dishes beneath it. I could smell the odor of greasy burgers being fried and hear the sound of french fries being made behind that little window. There many locals occupying booths or separate tables. The waitresses were conversing with some of them or with each other by the door to the kitchen.

Some of the men looked up at me upon my entrance and immediately started to murmur to each other while glancing at me from the corner of their eyes as I walked up to the counter. I was used to it. I already know what they're talking about. The one with the ragged beanie is encouraging his friend with the weird afro to come talk to me and try to seduce me to come back to his home. This isn't the first time they tried.

Despite this, I didn't let it get to me. One of the waitresses acknowledged me and let me know she would be over in a couple of minutes. I opened the ripped, plastic menu and perused the choices even though I already know what I want. I always order the same thing every time.

When the waitress came over, she gave me a forced smile, her lips covered in a gloss too glittery. Her hair was multi-colored, tied in a high ponytail, and her uniform was the same teal color when my mother used to wear it except this girl's shirt was too tight enough to rival against Dolly Parton. I wasn't judgemental but that doesn't mean I didn't like her choice to wear it and I smiled back either way.

"What can I get you?" she asked.

"I'll just get a tuna melt," I said.

"Sure thing," she said, scribbling it down on her notepad. She poured me a glass of water and hurried off to the small window.

I flipped open a New York Daily News I saw abandoned on the stool beside me while I waited and looked at the entertainment section. I don't really like reading the news or watching it because there is always something drastic and depressing going on but it is a lot better than reading the unnecessary high school drama of celebrities and Hollywood in general. I could never understand why they need to put their personal issues to the media or why people need to expose people's privacy like that. I don't understand why Riley is studying journalism if it means being a sleaze.

I flipped the page and I almost ripped it in two at the image; it was Lucas Friar taking up two pages for a full body picture. He wasn't smiling - he was more like smoldering. He was wearing a fancy suit with an expensive Rolex shining in bright silver and his brown-blonde hair groomed neatly, and the light of the photography really lets his tan skin glisten well. Then there is his eyes. His very, very, very green eyes. They were staring directly at the camera with an impassive glint, his emotions an enigma to me.

I bit my lip. Even though I see him as a pompous douche, it doesn't change the fact that he is utterly gorgeous. No wonder he was voted most eligible bachelor four years straight. He probably knows the advantage he has, being rich and handsome, so I can imagine how many women flung themselves at them and he would bring them home. He does seem like the kind of guy to do that but then the way how he was be cordial with me at times would shatter that image I have for him.

I flipped the page again and perused through the sports section, trying to distract myself from my progressing thoughts about a pretentious billionaire. Another waitress came back with my food then. As I tossed the newspaper to the side and she set the plate down in front of me, I saw her eyeing me speculatively.

"You okay, hun?" she asked.

"I'm fine," I told her as I gathered the sandwich from the plastic plate and took a large bite. I savored the taste of tuna, onion, mayonnaise, and celery - it is just like the way I remembered. I could even taste the cheddar cheese in the mix.

The waitress flipped a towel over her shoulder and leaned against the counter. "Now, you know I don't believe that, Maya. You don't normally come here unless you got something in your mind. Is it your father again?"

"You know I haven't spoken to that bastard in years, Heather," I murmured.

"Then does it have to do with Riley?" she asked. "How she been?"

"She caught the flu," I said. "I had to fill in for her today for an interview she's been working on months to arrange."

"You want me to make some of my famous tomato-chicken soup?" she insisted politely. "You know that used to help you get better in a nick of time and you'd ask for more because it was that damn good. I remember your mother used to always ask me for the recipe."

"If you could make a quick batch, I'd really appreciate it," I said. "She's been hacking her lungs out all morning and I'd really like not to have to see her breakfast the second time around."

Heather laughed. "Alright, sweetheart."

She turned and left to the kitchen again, leaving me alone in my thoughts once more as I continued to eat my tuna melt. It helped keep my nerves calm. It hardly mattered it was diner food. It certainly didn't beat Topanga's home cooked meals but it was something I've grown addicted to from my childhood. So I ate it ravenously.

Unfortunately, my moment of paradise soon ended as the same guy with the weird afro came to sit on the stool next to me and gave me, in what he thinks in his mind to be, a suggestive grin but it made me roll my eyes and kept on finishing my sandwich.

"So, come around here often, beautiful?" he asked.

"You should know," I snorted. "You and your buddy over there always watch me when I come here."

He tried to do a husky chuckle, though, it sounded like a choked gurgle. I rolled my eyes and took a sip of my water before I continued to eat my sandwich. The guy seemed put off by my lack of reaction to his so-called laughter and cleared his throat as he inched closer to me. If he dares to touch my hand, I'll bend his fingers over his knuckles.

"So, I was thinking," he started with a sly grin, his tone suggestive. Oh, he has a brain to think with. That's a shocker.

"Maybe you and I could go to this nice bar I know and share a couple of drinks. It's not too far from here."

Translation: Let's go to the bar where I can get you drunk enough to not seem me slip you a rohypnol and take advantage of you in bed so I can tell my obnoxious friends that I got to smash you like I'm some sort of legend. I snorted. Men. One of the many things I hated most in my old neighborhood - all the guys here are like little hungover boys who like to think they're grown men. Their poor pea brains.

"No thanks," I said.

"C'mon baby," he urged, moving his stool closer to me to have our arms brushing and shoulders grazing. "I promise to give you a good time."

I continued to ignore him. I was more focused on the tuna melt. It gives me more satisfaction than this guy thinks he could. It makes me happy. I take another bite out of it to enjoy that bliss.

"So what do you say?" he persisted.

He did the worst and reached over to try to take my hand in his and it made me drop my sandwich, causing all the contents inside to spill out onto my shirt. On. My. Leather. Jacket.

Silence fell over the diner. Conversations halted as heads turned and eyes settled on us. Some of them were dumbfounded while others were staring at the guy in dread. Some of them must know about my history. Their stares made the tension reach newer heights and I could feel my temper begin to boil.

I gasped in dread and quickly reached for the napkins to clean it off before it leaves a stain on the material.

"Whoa!" He quickly standing from the stool to avoid some of the dripping contents and swipe the tiny breadcrumbs from his pants.

Once I was sure that there was nothing left on the jacket and my other clothes, I tossed the napkin aside and glared up at the guy. It must have been the most heinous thing he's seen because he visibly cringed and took a step back out of fear. I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt before he had a chance to flee and tugged him forward, the tips of our noses grazed against each other. I nearly retched on the spot when I could smell the garlic scent on his breath. If this guy managed to get girls in his bed, I am ashamed to be in the same species as those women.

"Listen to me, you piece of rat shit. I don't want to have sex with you, I will never have sex with you. Knowing you thought you could even seduce me to have sex with you and dared to come over here to pursue me is the most pathetic thing you've ever done. So I suggest you leave me alone unless you want me to leave you emotionally damaged when you walk out of here. Understand?"

With wide, fearful eyes, the guy nodded his head rapidly, a light whimper escaping from his trembling lips. I smirked delightfully. Men. They boast out in pride until someone grabs them below the belt and makes them their bitch. I roughly shoved him to where his terrified friend is watching, almost tipping over their table, and I go back to cleaning up the mess of a sandwich that I am now mourning over. It was no ordinary sandwich - it was a perfect sandwich. I could hear the two imbeciles sputtering and later took off out of the diner.

A few minutes later, Heather came back from the kitchen, holding a bag, and she stopped on the spot when she saw me gathering the pieces of the sandwich onto the plate with a huff.

"What the hell happened here?" she asked as she placed the bag on the counter and took the plate from me.

"A fuckboy incident," I grumbled. I eyed the bag. "Is that the soup?"

"Yes." She pushed it towards me and I took it. "There's two containers in there. Tell Riley to take two small bowls a day and to heat it under thirty-five seconds. It should help her clear up within forty-eight hours."

"Thanks. She'll appreciate it."

I reached in my pocket to leave her the amount I owe but Heather just shook her head and held up her hand.

"Don't worry about it," she said. "It's on the house. Think of it as your reward for scaring away another idiotic customer."

"Thanks." I smirked. I still reached in my pocket and left her a twenty-dollar tip. I know she needed the money way more than I do now.

I turned and walked out of the diner without another word. I really wanted to get home and forget about this day.

* * *

Riley and I live in a unique apartment that we're lucky to find suitable and within our budget. We were lucky - the landlord was a client to Riley's mother, Topanga, for a case where he thought he was going to lose his position due to a manipulative tenant and when he learned that Riley needed a place to stay for college, he was kind to lower the price for two. With my job and Riley's, we're practically paying with pebbles and gum so it was a lifesaver for us. The place turned out to be a nice home for the past four years. But it won't top our last home with the Matthews because it held a lot of memories that are irreplaceable and also with the infamous Bay Window.

That was the only thing we were worried about but we made a misshapen Bay Window in the living room that was enough for us. It wasn't like the original, but it was manageable.

I dragged my hand over my face, pushing it through my hair. I drove through the calmer streets of Greenwich Village, breathing a sigh of relief as I parallel-parked in the corner closest and looked up at the apartment building after I killed the engine. It was decent; the building was timeless, graceful, and seemed a thousand years old. The soft, deep brown brick wall was faded but it was still in well-proportion. Every window looked the same, all from the original structure, except the one that stood out the most with vines and flower pots decorated in the balcony.

Only Riley would make sure it is springtime anytime.

The night was closing in slowly, the fewer stars were coming out, and the streetlights were turning on. After locking my car, I hugged my jacket closer to my body as I walked up the stoned steps of the complex, hearing an irritated screech of an alley cat nearby, and stopped at the porch to rub warmth into my shivering arms before I press the buzzer for Apartment 420. The buzzer to mine was broken and we have to wait for a new maintenance man to be hired since the landlord had to fire the last one for smuggling contraband.

On the fourth floor, Mama Arroyo, a kind, Puerto Rican elderly lady who seem to have been taken by me and Riley, and took care of us in the first few years after we moved here, had offered to be my way into the building. I never got an explanation why she is so caring of us but I accepted it nonetheless because she was great company for when I was lonely and Riley needed to work an extra shift or the other way around.

A loud buzz came after I pressed the button and waited patiently. It was a minute later that I heard the familiar Spanish accent flow through the speaker.

"Hola, Maya."

I smiled and chuckled. She always seems to know it is me.

"Hola, Mama Arroyo," I said fluently. I had taken two years of Spanish in high school. "Lo siento si te desperté."

"No te preocupes, chica," she said. "Hice un poco de arroz con dulce como tú y Riley les gustan. Se lo di a la loca. Oí que estaba enferma. Si se lo comió todo, todavía tengo un poco de sobras si todavía quieres algo."

The smile grew widely. One of the many reasons why I take pleasure in spending the night in her apartment is because of the dishes she always has prepared. The hallway would always smell delicious of freshly baked sweets and traditional meals from her homeland. She would always make many for everyone in the hallways; we call her Mama Arroyo because of this. She took in the role of a pseudo mother who makes sure we are fed well for the day - no one knows she gives extra to me and Riley.

"¿Has hecho mofongo hoy?" I asked curiously. I couldn't help myself. Mofongo is my favorite dish, third to tuna melt.

"Claro!" she answered enthusiastically. "Date prisa para que pueda comer un poco."

The door buzzed and I was quick to enter the foyer. On my right was an empty reception desk, which doesn't surprise me, and inside the door behind it, I could see shadows moving rapidly and noises. I shivered but tried to not think what the landlord could be doing in there. Whenever his wife comes to visit him at work to 'drop off his lunch' I tend to avoid any uncomfortable encounters. Poor Riley had to walk in on them when she needed someone to fix the buzzer.

The main floor showed a welcoming vibe. Though, it is flawed in some. The small hallway only had a rusty elevator that would break down from time to time and there is a creaky staircase that would shake with the smallest of movements. Not too far from the elevator is a doorway to the waiting room where there is worn couches, a dusty television set that doesn't even work, and a table covered in magazines.

As I walk past it, I was not taken aback to see a group of children laughing constantly while causing a fiasco with silly string and mushes of food as they tossed it across the room, staining their clothes or getting stuck in their hair. The building calls them, The Little Rascals, who were always doing some mischievous stunt in the building because they know when the landlord is preoccupied with his wife.

"Ah!" I gasped when one of the boys, Alfie, had accidentally squirted an amount of syrup across the room and made contact with my face, forcing me to close my eyes to not go blind. Then I glanced at my clothes to see it completely drenched in syrup and smell of pancakes.

I blinked my eyes as I wiped the stickiness away from my eyes then glanced over at the kids with a hard glare and I was pleased to see everyone has stopped their rebellious food fight with a look of fright as they noticed me. They seem to also be trembling as they dropped their mushed food and cans, their eyes widening comically while I took a threatening step towards them.

"Uh oh," said the redhead, Rachel, in fear. Good. She should be. "I-it's Maya!"

"Hello children," I said sweetly with a calm smile. I may have a reputation in my neighborhood from my past as a rebellious delinquent and, although time has passed since I've done anything reckless, it seems to still be remembered even with the younger ones. I always remind these kids nearly every time they cross paths with me and they weirdly admire that too. I never get children.

"W-w-we're so s-sorry, Maya!" squeaked Mitchell. "It...it was an a-accident!"

"Please don't hurt us mentally or emotionally!" added Susan.

I stood there for a moment, increasing the tension and fear in the room for my sick amusement and guilty pleasure, until I crossed my arms and put my weight on one legs as I raised a dangerous brow. A smirk formed when I heard their intake of breath and sensed their discomfort before I said in a low, dangerous voice, "Run."

When they scattered, they looked like a couple of roaches scurrying away from the light and I laughed at how easy they are to scare. Consider me a sick person for finding joy in this.

I later started to climb up the shaky staircase after I heard the noises in the back room abruptly stop - I did not want to be stuck in the elevators for hours again - and because I really wanted to eat some of Mama Arroyo's food. Each floor had an open door or no door at all and I can hear every family or couple talking loudly, some even laughing loudly, probably consumed in alcohol. The night is still young.

Opening the door to the fourth floor, I had to quickly move to the side when a bunch of tittering toddlers came barreling through and were followed by their mother yelling at them with a sandal in hand. Seems like someone is going to get the slap of their childhood. A little bit of Spanish music is heard blaring through the corridors, and some people were seen dancing along with the beats perfectly with their partner, some playing a game of dominoes, and others lounging around drinking bottles of beer.

I observed them as I headed to Apartment 420. These people are staying in such a mediocre place but they live in it like it was their mansion, their palace, with these nightly festivities and get-togethers. On the holidays they would go full out with the traditional food, rum-mixed beverages, games, dances, and jokes. They make it seem like it is not bad to be part of this neighborhood; everybody knew everybody, whether it is from history, family friends, or from encounters. There is hardly bad blood or horrible conflicts between these people - everyone just seem to accept each other easily.

"Mira quien volvió!" a husky voice said gruffly on my left, causing me to smile and playfully roll my eyes as I turned to him. "Maya Papaya!"

"Luis," I greeted with a nod. "How are you?"

Luis Ruiz is one of the kindest men I met in this building. He was in his mid-sixties, widowed, and, despite him denying it, he is starting to show a bit of grey hair. He is always seen sitting on a chair outside of his door and reading a novel. Nobody questioned why he couldn't read inside his home where he could be in peace and quiet from all the ruckus in the hallway - I assume it is because he is lonely and likes it when people greet him or have a small conversation with him.

Luis closed his book after bending the corner of a page he was on and smiled warmly at me. "I've been doing good. How about you? I can see the Rascals got to you again."

I glanced down at the syrup stains and scowled. "Yeah. I let them off easily for now. I'll get back at them when I see them next time."

Luis snickered. "They're just being kids. Remember you used to be like them when you were their age?"

"I was worse," I smirked. I went to lean against the wall next to his chair and stuffed my hands in the pocket of my jacket.

"Oh don't say that," said Luis. "You were just misguided, that's all."

"If you say so," I shrugged. "So what book are you reading this time?"

"It's a nice novel by Stephen Chbosky," he answered, handing me the green novel. "The Perks of Being a Wallflower. Very good book."

"Sounds depressing," I said as I flipped through the pages. "Don't you ever get tired of reading so much? I get a headache just by looking at so many words."

"I assure you that the book is far from depressing, Papaya," he replied, ignoring my question altogether; I guess he doesn't. "It really does change your perspective in how you see things in life. The way how you look at other people won't be the same again. I can honestly say your mindset would be changed."

"I find that unlikely," I snorted as I held the book back to him.

Luis held a hand. "No, you keep it. I read it more than twenty times I could be the narrator of the story. Besides you seem like you need a good book to read tonight - you seem to have a rough night."

"No I haven't."

"Maya, the vein in your forehead says otherwise. It looks like its about to pop any second now."

My hand instantly went up to my face and I can feel the throbbing sensation in my temples. I never knew my frustration could be an open book to others. Perhaps I have been during my walk back home without noticing.

"Rough night?" Luis asked.

I nodded. "The worst so far."

"You want to talk about it?"

I immediately shook my head. I was never good at opening up to other people about my problems or feelings aside from Riley. She is a really good listener and the light in her eyes are what makes me break down my walls around her easily because that was the sign of genuine care and true concern over me.

"I just want to go to bed and sleep it off," I said. "Thank you for the offer."

Luis didn't seem convinced yet he nodded kindly and opened his arms. I silently entered them and laid my head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around me, rubbing my back in a soothing manner that nearly made me tear up a bit. Last time I was close to having a hug from a man was from Riley's pseudo uncle and my stepfather, Shawn Hunter, and I haven't seen him in a while.

"Keep the book, Maya Papaya," Luis whispered in his ear while still rubbing my back. "It might help you in ways you never know."

I pulled back from him, sniffling slightly and gave him a grateful smile as I hugged the book closer to me. "Gracias, Luis. Have a good night."

Luis waved after me as I walked away from him and ventured off to Mama Arroyo's apartment. I had to avoid some of the people who were dancing to the salsa music playing from Apartment 427 and was welcomed back from the other neighbors in sight whilst they watched their children having fun. I kept my gaze down on my feet to avoid theirs in hopes I won't give away my frustration and fiddled with the corners of the book cover. Strands of my hair have fallen forward to conceal my face.

The walk wasn't long until I reached my destination. I went into the apartment like I owned it because the door was open, letting out a whiff of mouth-watery aroma that made my stomach rumble like thunder, and I could see some of the regular neighbors are loitering around the living room, watching an NBA game on television. The apartment still looked the same as the other times I visited; the first door on the right in the hallway leads to Mama Arroyo's bedroom, the kitchen was an opened view with a small, round dining table in the right corner large enough to fit five people. At the back on the left of the kitchen was the laundry room.

I spent so much time in this apartment. It was a second home to me before the Matthew's came into my life.

I walked into the kitchen and saw Mama Arroyo walking around, searching through different ingredients as the skillet on the hot stove sizzled loudly, the steam containing the wonderful scent of many dishes being cooked. I leaned against the doorframe while I watched her in amusement, a lazy grin never leaving my face as she raced around the kitchen, oblivious of my presence. Even though my stomach was pleading for food, I couldn't help from watching her scatter - this is the only time I can see someone cook in my side of the city.

The bitter and emotional atmosphere left outside of these walls, tucking me away safely within them and now I was embracing the freedom of the live area, my mood lightened slightly as the weight of the dreadful interview was somewhat lifted from my shoulders. It was still around me, in the back of my mind, and I knew I still had much to discuss, to figure out, later on, but I was enjoying the moment of normalcy.

"Hola, Maya," said Mama Arroyo, shocking me at the fact she even knew I was there to begin with and because she had her back facing me the entire time. "Espero que tengas un gran apetito. Hice unos deliciosos platos de pasteles y tembleque. El mofongo y el arroz con dulce es en el microonda."

"¿Cómo sabías que yo estaba aquí?" I asked as I walked closer to her and gave her a hug around her shoulders from behind then gave her a peck on the cheek. "Casi hice ruido."

"Tu perfume," she answered. "Ha comido?"

"Un poco en el restaurante."

"Come más. No voy a dejar que te quedas con la mitad de un estómago."

Mama Arroyo pointed her spatula towards the microwave and gave me a stern raised eyebrow over her shoulder. She meant well whenever she gave me that look; she usually uses it when I am being unhealthy and difficult.

I laughed lightly then went to get my food out of the microwave and sat down at the dining table. At the first bite of the mofongo, I moaned in delight at the flavor melting all over my tongue and the thunder of my stomach ceased as I continued to shovel more food into my mouth.

"Desde cuando lees libros?" Mama Arroyo asked over the sizzling of the skillet and howling of the living room. I glanced at the book she was referring to next to my plate before I went back to my dinner.

"Es de Luis," I answered after I swallowed. "Él me lo presto a leer pero creo que lo voy a regresar a él más tarde. No soy mucho de una persona de lectura. Yo prefiero los libros con fotos."

Mama Arroyo paused from watching over the stove to approach me at the table and took the book, observing the cover thoroughly. Then she chuckled humorlessly, shaking her head with an amused smile before she settled the book back down.

"Las ventajas de ser tímido. Ai, ese Luis," she sighed. "Siempre ha leído las novelas extraños que encuentra. ¿Por qué se le da a este uno en particular?"

"En realidad, no se," I shrugged. "Dijo que me ayudaría."

Mama Ortiz raised a quizzical brow. "¿Tiene problemas?"

I waved her off. "No hay nada que no puedo manejar."

"Será mejor que no estar en problemas tan serio. Usted vino muy lejos de la forma que estaba cuando salía con esas chicas terribles," she stated as she went back to her stove when the sizzling has simmered down.

I stopped from shoving another mouthful of mofongo in my mouth when she mentioned that and I stayed frozen in dismay at the fact that she could easily mention about my past friendships like it was yesterday. I stared at her back wondering if she thought I could effortlessly revert back to my old habits if I wanted to and if I should take her fear in consideration about myself.

I wanted to ask Mama Arroyo whether she thought the change of me to be possible, whether I could be the same way I used to be, and if she really is scared that I will be that way ever again. But I couldn't; a loud commotion was heard coming from the living room and Mama Arroyo was already stomping her way in there with a spatula in hand and shouting out words that would make anyone blush in embarrassment. It certainly made me do it.

So I quietly kept eating, lost in my thoughts, cringing at the loud scolding going on behind me, and along the way, I couldn't stop staring at the book Luis lend me. As I chewed I held it in front of me, pondering why he even gave it to me. What affect would this book give me? Books never interested me, Luis knew that, yet he thought this one would pique mine. I suppose it has since I am curious about it and want to know what it is about that has him reading it so much. From the title, it sounds like the most dull and depressing story written in all of mankind but Luis is a good man and he lives his life without a regret in his day so I doubt the book is what I think it is.

Just because something is wrapped up all pretty, doesn't mean it is, I could hear Matthew's voice recite the same words he said during the Ancient Greece lesson back in middle school. Perhaps I should give the book a quick peek before I judge. But not tonight - I just want a warm bath and a deep sleep. I have a big migraine.

So I took a couple more bites of my dinner, threw away the scraps in the garbage, and cleaned the dishes before I left the apartment after bidding a farewell to Mama Arroyo and thanking her for the meal. Mine was not far from hers. It was a couple of feet away from the tiny party so I know the noises won't bother me in my sleep. I jiggled the doorknob a little then turned and pushed the door open.

I spotted Riley sitting in the couch. She was still wearing her baggy pink flannel pajamas with purple hats wearing fedora hats, the kind she has reserved for movie nights, ill days, and lazy weekends. She was also surrounded by mountains of books. She was obviously cramming in for her finals.

"Honey, I'm home!" I announced. "And I brought the cure!"

"Peaches! You're back!"

Riley literally dropped everything she was doing to hop over the back of the couch and bounds up to me to capture me in a tight hug.

"I thought you'd be back sooner. I was getting worried."

"Trust me, I tried to get over with that interview."

I handed her the bag containing all of her stuff and made my way to the kitchen to place the bag on the counter. Riley followed me and spilled out the contents from the bag, letting out a squeal of delight as she went through the notes I had written down for her and hearing the interview in the recorder.

"Maya, thank you so much for doing this. I love you - I love you - I love you - I love you so much, you know!" she cheered; she went back to the couch to gather up her pen and notebook then came back to the kitchen to start frantically scribbling in her transcribed version of it all. "This is great!"

As she spoke, I approached her from the other side of the counter and started to place my hand on her face to measure her temperature. She felt less hot now. Based on how she looked prior to this morning, the color of her cheeks returned and she seemed peppier than usual. She was more Riley-peppy.

"Have you been taking your medicine?" I said. "I stopped on the way and got some soup that will get you better by tomorrow."

"My nose isn't as stuffy as it was and it doesn't hurt to sneeze anymore," she answered, still writing down the interview.

"Make sure to take some more before you go to bed tonight. Or I'll force feed you."

I went to place the containers in the fridge and then went to the laundry room. Once I got the washing machine started, I slowly shrug off my leather jacket and mournfully looked at it in my hands with a pout. It has been spattered and splashed on by ignorant little boys. I stuffed it in the washing machine, slammed the lid closed, and pressed the START button, hoping that all the stains of this unlikely day would be gone.

I went back to the fridge to pull out an aluminum foil-covered plate, which I assume to be more of Mama Arroyo's dish, and placed it in the microwave to heat it up. Thirty-seven seconds later, I was sitting on a stool by the counter, eating a recently hot place of Puerto Rican delights and flipped through any magazine we got in the mail today. I shuffled through the pile until I found mine - Aesthetica. There is nothing better than European art. Most of other magazines are Elle, Vogue, Cosmopolitan, and Seventeen - these were Riley's.

I couldn't concentrate on the article because I could hear Riley muttering under her breath, commenting once in a while about the interview, and I couldn't drown myself in Ricardo Bofill's inspiring purpose on _La Muralla Roja_ knowing Riley was hearing every word of what I said considered disrespectful to the Lucas Friar and which I might get an earful for later. It made me cringe thinking about it. I peered up at her, watching her reaction.

"I wish you could have taken photos," she sighed as she continued to write what she deemed worthy for her project. "Having a fresh photo would make it seem more authentic instead of the constantly used ones from the Internet."

Photos? You couldn't pay me all the money in the world to take a snap of him. Which is weird considering photography is one of the many classes I am taking for my major. But the difference is I can choose what I should take a picture of with a passion as endless as the sky and doing a photoshoot with Lucas Friar would be the end of my patience. The interview was as infuriating enough. Just the thought of taking extra time of my youth to waste it on him makes me want to rip my hair out. I just wish I could erase the image of those gorgeous green emerald eyes staring at me from the back of my head.

"Wow, you even asked him things I didn't even think about - good thinking, Maya," she praised before adding, "Although, was it necessary to ask him if he was gay?"

"Like you weren't wondering," I grunted.

Riley paused on the recorder yet continued to write. "It is a nice information to learn but not really a necessity for the article." She bit her lip. "Judging from his way of speaking, he sounds charming as he looks but he also sounds a little...um…presumptuous."

Oh no - I know eventually her curiosity would get the better of her. I decided to play the dumb blonde card and pretend that I didn't hear her as I flipped through the magazine pages. Then I closed it abruptly and tossed it to the side. Even if I focused on abstract or body art, I couldn't shake the thought of him. It was pathetic. He wasn't anything special. Just some big top businessman who thinks he's the king of the world and the man of every woman's dream. Sounds like all the boys I come across with except this one is actually successful.

"Maya! Earth to Maya!" Riley was waving her hands in the air. By practically living under the same roof as her since childhood, it was hard to avoid bubbly and persistent attitude. "Can you hear me or are you deep in the heart of Mayaville?"

"Too close," I mumbled as I pushed her back into her chair.

"How was it? What was he like?" she eagerly urged on.

"He was just a guy, Riles," I shrugged. "I don't know what else you want me to say."

"He has to be more than just a guy."

"They're never more than just a guy." I rolled my eyes. I took my plate of mofongo and carried it over to the couch. I slumped into the cushions and kicked my feet up on the coffee table, pushing back some of the books.

It didn't take long for Riley to trail after me. "Okay, but what kind of guy is he? Is he cordial? Is he not? Is he what everything people thought he was?"

"He's young and rich." I pointed my fork at her. "Which, by the way, I am so getting back at you for not giving me a biography about him. I have never been so humiliated by a guy before, let alone an ass like him. Just know I did my justice in that recording."

Riley grimaced. "I'm so sorry, Peaches. I should have briefed you but I was in such a panic. This interview was important and I was more focused on getting someone there. I promise I'll back it up to you."

"You better," I huffed.

Riley nudged against my shoulder. "But seriously, tell me what he was like."

I rolled my eyes and let out an aggravated sigh, "He was an ass but he was also polite and okay, I guess. He's powerful and he's impossible to break. He's everything to be expected from a businessman of the upper side. He definitely doesn't talk much like a twenty-something guy. How old is he?"

"Hmm, my research says he was born in November 24, 2000 so he's actually a year older than us."

"Mmm, and while you were doing this research, did you by any chance happen to come across where he used to study?" I ran my fork around the food while looking at her with a raised eyebrow. "Like where he studied?"

"I found that he went to one of the most prestigious schools in New York," she answered. "He went to Horace Mann School. That school has been ranked the number one school in New York for seven years. He was an honor student - only took AP classes - captain of any sports team he tried out - and he got a scholarship to Oxford University. The impressive part is that he applied for Harvard University but Oxford went looking for him."

"Yeah, I know he studied Psychology and stuff in college," I said. "I'm talking about before high school. Do you recognize him at all? Or even find him familiar back then?"

"Hmm." Riley knitted her brows together. "No, not really. Anything before high school isn't really considered relevant since college scouts focus from ninth grade and up. What are you going on, Maya?"

"He told me he went to John Quincy Adams. Our old middle school."

"What?" Riley blinked incredulously. "There's no way! I don't remember a Lucas Friar going to that school with us. I think I would have remembered somebody like him."

I held up my hands. "Hey, don't look at me. That's what he said. It's all in the recording."

"That's just not possible," she murmured, mostly to herself rather than to me. She has a concentrated expression on her face and I know it would be a while for me to get through to her when she is in thinking mode. "I know everybody from our graduating class. I'm still in contact with them through Facebook and Instagram. I just Kik'd Yogi yesterday to see if he and Darby are in town this week so we could all hang out."

"Maybe he wasn't in our grade," I insisted.

Riley hopped off the couch so suddenly, startling me to nearly knocking the plate off my lap, and she leapt over my legs to race into her room. I rolled my eyes and continued to eat as I watched the television. I reached for the remote and flicked the channel away from that chic program Riley tortured herself to watch into a more interesting show with a true plot, Stranger Things. I snuggled into the cushions and let out a satisfied sight. This is better.

"I don't see why you're so hung up in this?" I called over my shoulder as I hear rummages and things knocking over coming from her room. "It's not like it's going to change history!"

A couple of more noises are heard and eventually I was beginning to think that she might be stuck in a pile of her belongings when I heard her sprinting towards my direction so I shuffled to the side as she hurdled over the couch, only to get tangled with the quilt and landed on the cushions face-first beside me, her hair flaring over her. I casually tilt to the side to lean against her, using her as my personal pillow.

"How many times have I told you to not jump over the couch when you know you end up falling flat on your face?" I reminded. "You're lucky you didn't fall on the floor this time. Next time you might not be so lucky."

I get off of her so she could maneuver herself into a more upright position and once she was sitting, crossed-legged, she held a book in her hands. I let out a disgruntled moan. It was our middle school yearbook. It was evidence of what we looked like before puberty hit us and actually blessed us with a second chance at life.

"I thought you burned that," I said.

Riley didn't respond; she was busy going through the pages and I pouted sorrowfully. I don't want to reminded of anything from the past. Too many memories with a thousand feelings I've struggled to keep buried. To see those old photographs of clubs, school events, and other social activities brought an unbearable pang in my chest that made me shift my weight uncomfortably and place the plate on the coffee table, my appetite suddenly disappeared as my stomach churned uneasily.

"Aha!" Riley cheered happily. "Found him!"

"What?" I was quick to slide to her side and hover over her shoulder as she held up the page to me. "There's no way!"

"I'm not kidding," she said. "That's him, isn't it? That has to be him."

I took the yearbook from her hands and stared intently at the pictures in the page, my eyes settling on the same person. There is no way that little boy is him. He looked nothing like that tempting man I talked to hours ago. This one actually looked innocent; he had obvious baby-smooth skin, his dark blonde hair a short mop, and he held a gentle smile that could possibly make any girl swoon and weak at the knees like a Southern Belle. As I flipped the pages, I can see he was involved in a lot of clubs too. Sports team, debate team, drama club, and science club.

"I don't remember him," I murmured.

"Neither do I," Riley added. "You'd think we'd remember someone who was in so much. He's almost in every page."

"You probably but I wouldn't," I retorted. "Half of the things he's in I don't care about."

"That's not true," she countered. "You used to be in the drama club and you loved it. He was in it too."

"But I don't remember him. And what about the debate team? You were in it with Dave and you can't remember him either."

Riley shivered. "Ugh, Cornchip Dave. Don't remind me about him. He was such a sweetheart but he had an unhealthy obsession with corn chips. I worried about him."

"Not to mention he had a major crush on you for two years."

Riley grimaced. I laughed.

She was always awkward around guys who are interested in her. Ever since her last serious relationship with Evan Dawson, a member of from her old debate club, she had put off dating for a while.

A part of me wondered if she still held feelings for the rebellious dropout because they had only broken nine months ago and as soon as the news was heard that she was a newly single woman, boys from our campus came asking her out left and right but she'd always reject them stating that 'she wasn't looking for a relationship' and that honestly worried me.

Riley didn't seem upset nowadays but she was open to try new. She never told me in what terms she and Evan ended in. She wouldn't tell me when I used to persist her about it and eventually I let it go, but the thought never escaped. It's still there lodged in the back of my mind. I just don't mention it anymore until she cracked.

Then, as it was called for it, a knock came on the front door. Riley climbed out of the couch and approached the door. I dumped the yearbook to the side and watched her over the couch with a smile. This happens every time.

"Who is it?" asked Riley as she stretched onto her toes and peered in the peephole, her hand already unlatching the chain. "Are you a criminal?"

"You ask that every time he comes over," I said. "Just let the boy in!"

Riley giggled giddily before she turned the lock, twisted the knob, and flung the door open. Standing there in the hallway, holding a bottle of red wine was Charlie Gardner.

He is an old friend from middle school. I wasn't particularly close to him to consider him a best friend but he was tolerable enough to have around as company. He would visit us once in a while when he had the time to do so since his campus, Columbia University, isn't too far away from ours. He is one of the many few of our friends from our graduating class that we would see mostly while the others are living their lives in other states or countries.

He would claim he loves seeing how his old classmates are doing - Riley would accept it, thinking he was being a nice guy. But I'm not stupid. I know, for a fact, that he has a terrible crush on Riley. I might even exaggerate enough to say he was in love with the clueless brunette and that he probably does know the minor to major details about Riley as much as me. I couldn't be wrong about this. If he visits us to see how we are doing, he would give us a call or message us once in a while, not using his time to take the subway to come to our noisy apartment just to spend a few short hours with us before he leaves home late and wake up early tired because he didn't have enough sleep.

I don't think Riley will ever see Charlie as more than an old friend but I know she has noticed the change in him as much as I did. Back then he used to have that short, spikey haircut and wear bummy clothes like he just woke up on a lazy Sunday afternoon but once his voice switched a little, his appearance apparently did also. I still have a hard time swallowing in the fact that the shy, quiet guy who would sit in the corner of the classroom actually turned out to be one of the most attractive men I've seen in New York.

But there he was. It was still a surprising reminder.

It was nothing fancy; just a simple black V-neck shirt and some khaki loose-fitting cargo pants, but it showed off his muscular yet lean physique much better than his ragged flannel shirts ever did. It doesn't impress me that much since he used to be in the track team back in high school but it isn't a sore sight to see the details.

And the glasses. That is the only change about him that I will never get used to. He never wore them before but I'm glad that he does now. The glasses gave him an air of intelligence yet his lopsided grin breaks through it and keeps his playfulness intact. Then with his hair, now longer to have the tips touching his shoulders and fluffy enough to want to have my fingers buried in it, leaning the lenses give him a somewhat inviting aura.

In other words - puberty blessed Charlie Gardner.

"Hey, I thought I stop by," he said, holding up a bottle. "I brought wine."

I sprung up. "What kind?"

Riley rolled her eyes as she held the door open wide to allow Charlie to step through the threshold and shut it tight, slipping the chain back in place. Charlie slipped off his coat and hung it on the rack nearby the door before he followed into the kitchen. I grabbed the yearbook and swung over the back of the couch to join them at the counter.

"Maya, have some hospitality," she scolded lightly as she pulled out three wine glasses. "Charlie is a guest, not our delivery boy."

"I can see you missed me since my last visit, Maya," grinned Charlie.

"Couldn't miss you even if I tried, Gardner. You visited us three days ago.",I said as I snatched the wine bottle from his hands and inspected it all around. "Ooh, Château Bastor-Lamontagne. Very vintage, Cheese Souffle. Se sentant très français ce soir?"

I believe I forgot to mention that I had taken French for two years in middle school. That is where I met Charlie. We were partnered up for multiple projects and assignments.

"Seulement pour des occasions spéciales," he answered with a shrug.

I raised a brow. "Ou est-ce une autre tentative de balayer chaque pied Riley."

Charlie immediately went silent and lowered his head to hide his face but I could still see the pink patches on his cheek. I chuckled amusingly at him and bumped his shoulder with mine, making him smile slightly.

"So Charlie, what's with the wine?" asked Riley as she placed the glasses in a row and took the bottle from my hand to uncork it then started to pour one glass at a time. She passed them out to us.

"Can't a friend bring some wine for his friends without it being a special occasion?" he asked in false astonishment.

"Nope."

Charlie laughed. "Well, I do have some news."

"Oh, shocker," I gasped in mock shock. I swirled the liquid for a minute before I took a tentative sip and hummed in delight. Delicious. Nothing is better than fine wine.

"Maya," Riley said sternly.

"Sowwy, Chalwe" I mumbled in a baby voice.

"Anyway," Riley turned her attention to him. "What's the news?"

Charlie took a quick swing of his drink before placing his glass down and folded his hands on his lap. "Well, you girls remember that meeting I had with my headmaster? The one about my short film?"

Charlie was studying film production and I admit he was the best director I've seen in our age. He has done multiple short stories for class presentations or school videos for the website and pep rallies or did the senior class video. Anything that has to do with editing or directing, the teachers would go to Charlie to do the job. He even worked in GameStop and Best Buy to be near videos with a good plotline.

He was good at it - he was passionate about it.

"What about it?" asked Riley enthusiastically.

I merely took another sip of my wine. Riley was the half of our friendship who expresses enough excitement for the both of us. Charlie had a huge grin breaking out of his face, the tips nearly reaching his ears.

"Well, it turns out he had arranged an interview for me as an assistant to Francis Ford Coppola!" he announced merrily. If it were humanly possible, I think his smile grew.

"Charlie, that's amazing!" squealed Riley as she scurried around the counter and engulfed him in a tight hug, her face buried in the crook of his neck, hidden within his tresses, her short arms barely able to sling over his broad shoulders. She was too delighted by the news that she didn't realize her actions are causing Charlie's face to light up bright red.

"Way to go, Charles!" I said. "When's the big day?"

"It's not until next week," he answered. "Mr. Coppola is out directing a new Chris Evans movie somewhere in Rios, I think. Mr. Martin said that he'll send out all of my information to him through email and that he'll call me when he's back to schedule for an interview."

"We need to celebrate," said Riley. "This is huge. We need to do a get-together. Bring all of your classmates and we'll bring ours. We'll have snacks and drinks and -"

"No parties," I grumbled. "Last time we had a party was for your twentieth birthday and that ended up a disaster. I don't want a repeat of seeing Yogi's genitals again." I shuddered in disgust. "No. Never again."

"But it won't be like last time," Riley said with a pout. "I'll make sure nobody brings any lewd frat boys or any crazy sorority girls that you despise so much. I'm sure Charlie will do the same. It will be a small gathering with friends, acting like a bunch of grown ups as we should be."

"No."

"What's up with you today, Maya?" Charlie inquired. "Normally you'd be all about parties. You'll be the one to try to convince us to go to a party you hear about and drag us against our will."

Riley sighed. "Maya had a rough day. I was way too sick earlier today and I couldn't go to an interview I've been working on for months and needed someone to fill in for me. Maya was kind enough to go and...well...I guess her meeting with Lucas Friar wasn't exactly pleasant."

I scoffed. "Pleasant? It was a nightmare." I took my glass and the bottle of wine with me as I walked over to the couch. "The guy was a total ass."

"Isn't Lucas Friar some sort of big shot with a huge company?" asked Charlie. I wonder if he noticed that his and Riley's arms are still around each other. "Friar International Trading Inc?"

"That's the one." I fell into the couch and kicked up my feet on the table again. "Mr. Big Shot who thinks he's Midas with a golden touch and rules the world with his stick shoved up so deep in his ass he could taste his own shit."

"Whoa."

Riley lets out a sigh and removed herself from Charlie's arms to sit next to me in the couch. She slung her legs over my lap and leaned back against armrest with her arms crossed as she stared at me with a smile. Charlie came to lean against the back of the couch behind me. I ignored them both and downed my glass before I poured in another round.

"Was he that bad?" he pondered.

"You should hear the recording," added Riley. "You know how Maya is. She finds joy in the discomfort she puts on others but I think she might have met her match. She couldn't break him."

I glowered at her but Riley remained unaffected. Clearly she would be. She had to live with me unofficially for thirteen years before we moved in together.

"Really?" Charlie laughed in disbelief.

"Not really," I growled. "He just got lucky, that's all. Next time I see him, he won't be."

"Next time?" Riley raised an eyebrow. "How are you so sure there's a next time? I figured after today you won't want to see him again."

"I don't!" I groaned in annoyance. "But if I do somehow see him, I'll break him so hard, his future grandchildren will feel it."

"Ouch." Charlie winced. "I felt it."

I smirked deviously. "Good."

Riley crossed her legs and leaned forward, a look of speculation glazed over her doe brown eyes. I stared back at her, a brow arched, as I casually sipped on my wine and licking the red liquid off my lips. I ponder on what she is trying to find. She only ever stays this quiet when she is reading me, trying to see if she could find something about me that I don't know I'm giving off.

"Why didn't you take up his offer to show you around?" she asked.

"Because I'm not going to pretend I'm being swooned by his so-called empire and all of his shiny new toys."

"I don't think that's what he was trying to do." Riley's lips twitched at the corner. "He sounded like he wanted to spend some time with you."

I snorted, although, I could feel my face burn up from all the blood rushing into my head as my heart rate increases as if I had finished running a marathon. Sometimes I do get embarrassed by Riley's perspective in other people; she is a hopeless romantic and always finds little actions to be signs of love blooming. I always say that the story of her parents had influenced her greatly because in middle school she was heavily crushing on Brandon and he had been the only serious boyfriend she had. He was her first in everything but that is all that he ended up being - her first, not her forever. She had grown out of it since then but she still held the hope for other people.

"You have been watching way too many romantic comedies, honey," I said.

"He seemed taken by you," Riley remarked. "A guy like Lucas Friar doesn't just make time for anyone. He's a very busy man so for him to offer a tour to his place to you. And he wasn't offended by your...opinions."

"Sure," I said sarcastically before I tipped my head back to gulp down the wine.

Taken by me? Now Riley is being ridiculous. I did have to admit, though, every word that Riley is saying is sparking my interest. Deep down, my stomach twisted in an exciting knot for the possibility but I was realistic so I killed the idea. A man like that high-class Ranger Rick businessman being taken by a street rat like me would probably be the first sign to the destruction of the universe coming soon.

"You like him," Riley stated casually.

I sputtered the wine onto my shirt and lap. Charlie and Riley leaned back as I placed the glass on the table and started to pat at my clothes even though I know it was officially stained.

"What? No!" I yelped while staring at her incredulously.

"Charlie?" Riley turned to him expectantly.

With a frightful expression, Charlie held up his hands. "Hey, leave me out of it. I don't even know the guy."

"Peaches," Riley reached forward to take my hands in her. "I know you don't want to admit it but you find him attractive. Even you couldn't be immune to the way he looks. He is quite handsome."

I leaned forward to look at her directly in her eyes. "Yes, Honey, I'll admit he's attractive - really attractive - but he's still an ass. He's just a piece of meat waiting to get pounced on."

"Is that how you see us?" gawked Charlie. "A piece of meat?"

"That's not how I see you but that's how you guy tend to present yourselves to us women," I retorted.

I slipped my hands out of hers and got off the couch, stretching my arms over my head with a light whine. Then I let out a yawn, realizing that his conversation has me mentally worn out. Or perhaps I'm finally entering a much needed food coma.

"I'm gonna go to bed," I declared. "You two young kids better behave while mama is sleeping. I better not hear things I disapprove of."

"Maya!" squeaked Riley in disbelief while Charlie's face was like a red lightbulb.

I stuck my tongue out at her before I made my way through the clutter of books to my bedroom, yearning for the sleep to take over me. I changed out of my heavy clothes and into a comfortable loose shirt that is far too big on me but it is the musky scent is so heavenly to me that I didn't mind. I don't like wearing any pants when I sleep so I just turned on the faded LED lights I have installed in the ceiling and crawled into bed.

That night I had an unusual dream; a pair of green eyes luring me into a dark, alluring me to disappear in the darkness. Then an echo of a smooth voice lightly calling my name with a slight husk to it, I became bewitched and I aimlessly followed those two beautiful pairs of green crystals without a second thought.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I do not own Girl Meets World, the characters, the locations, the songs and the quotes mentioned in it. But I do own the plot.

* * *

 _Your man on the road, he doing promo_

 _You said keep our business on the low-low_

 _I'm just tryna get you out the friend zone_

 _'Cause you look even better than the photos_

 _I can't find your house, send me the info_

 _Driving through the gated residential_

 _Found out I was coming, sent your friends home_

 _Keep on tryna hide it but your friends know_

\- The Hills; The Weeknd

* * *

" _Attraction is only intense when mystery is involved."_

\- Anonymous

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Topanga's**

A light knock eventually woke me up from my slumber. I had my arm across my eyes, groggy and dazed. My thoughts were hazy, twisted up in my dreams; it took me longer to recall I was in my room. I moaned and rolled on to my side, hoping that sleep would consume me once more. I could feel it was way too early in the morning by how heavy my eyelids are and that there was no signs of sunlight through the window. I never lock it or close the curtains. I snuggled deeper into the pillow and let out a pleasant breath.

Until I groaned in irritation when another knock came. I rolled until my feet touch the floor and I quickly sprung them back on the bed when I felt the frigid wood sting my soles. I pulled out a pair of my favorite Stitch socks, rolled them up my leg, and then staggered to my phone on the dresser nearest to the window. The screen said it was three in the morning. I rolled my eyes then reached for a tissue from the box and blew my nose into it as I approached the door, the floorboards creaking under my weight. I'm probably gonna hear from Mr. Stiles soon for 'making too much noise' when I really wasn't.

When I opened the door, Riley was standing there with a smile and she was still wearing her pajamas. Her hair was twisted in a messy bun, a few strands falling over her lovely face. There was bags under her eyes and they were a bit dulled in color. She obviously hasn't gotten any sleep.

"Your hair looks like a haystack," she said.

I glared at her. "Shouldn't you be sleeping like a sane person should? Or mooching off on Charlie or something?"

"Charlie left hours ago - he needed to work on an essay," she said, ignoring my comment entirely. "And I was finishing my article and it got a little lonely without you out here."

I sighed tiredly, leaning my head against the doorframe. "And what purpose do you have that requires me to suffer from sleep deprivation?"

"I made some of my grandma's special brownies and Mama Arroyo brought in some more food for us. They're even doing reruns of Red Planet Diaries - season four."

I debated. I had classes in four hours and work in nine hours so the logical thing is to take the time to rest. But then there is the offer of late night snacks and night watching my favorite show with my best friend that is quite too tempting to resist. The latter won. I walk out into the hallway and closed the door behind me as Riley let out an excited squeal that made me smile slightly.

"Fine," I said. "But only for a few minutes and that's it. Capiche?"

"Capiche."

* * *

A few moments later, we were found in the living room, sharing a quilt knitted by my late grandmother, with a plate stacked by a small pile of homemade brownies, and Riley working on her laptop while I chomped on the dessert goods and lusted over a shirtless Blarg. I should be making her to go rest up, seeing that her nose was still pink and her cheeks were lightly flushed, but Riley was engrossed in her story and there was no way in pulling her back when she was too concentrated in her furious typing. I don't know how she is able to do that. I get tired from reading a few pages of the first chapter of a book so I can't imagine how worse I'd be if I had to write.

"You're missing the good stuff," I said as another love scene between Blarg and Ashley was in play after their first risque night.

"You know I'm more Blarchel trash," she answered, never removing her eyes from the screen or stopping her fingers. "I never understood what makes Blarley so popular. It's an unhealthy relationship."

"They're hot," I shrugged. "Plus their sex scenes are pretty good."

"That's why you ship them?"

"I never said I shipped them, I just said I prefer a relationship like theirs over Blarchel's. Yeah, Blarg and Rachel had a pretty good thing going on - good support - good communication - good passionate sex - but it got pretty boring really fast. It's the same story used; good guy meets good girl, they fall in love, go through problems that 'wants them apart', get through it, and later get married, have kids, and grow old and fat until they die. It's been done too many times."

"So has Ashley and Blarg's story," Riley retorted. "Bad guy misunderstood by all but falls for the good girl with good morals that help him change for the better and she eventually falls for him after she learns he isn't entirely bad. They develop into the climax of the story, soon let themselves go in a night of passion, go through the struggle of the universe trying to 'separate' them, manage to go through it all, and live happily ever after. That's also been done too many times."

"You're just a sucker for innocent romance," I grinned.

"And it worries me that you're more intrigued in the other kind of romance." Riley stopped typing to look up at me. "You know relationships are more than just physical, right?"

I nodded. "Trust me, I'm more familiar with the important aspects of a relationship than anyone else." I take another brownie from the plate. "Let's just admit that Hollywood is not original. They remake every story and add new things to make it seem more interesting but it's all the same."

"Agree." Riley hummed lightly as she went back to typing. "By the way, shouldn't you take the chance to finish your final project? It's worth a whole grade and you said the professor won't accept it a day late."

I glanced over at the corner of the room, nearby the wall next to the window; my eyes wandered to the sight of an unfinished piece colored on a easel with other art products sitting on the makeshift bay window and an open photo album. The piece wasn't finished yet. There were only a couple of colors splattered here and there but it isn't actually a picture yet. The assignment my professor gave me was a mystery; Paint what makes you incomplete. I've never struggled to come up with a picture before but this one is really taking the cake.

The tortured artist who could reach the depths of a place where not every else could reach, is what all of my art teachers would say whenever I present a piece that leaves them speechless. Riley would joke around and say it's because I had a terrible life - I believe her. My former Art mentor, Ms. Kossal, said that what I couldn't speak in words is what I paint - I show what I feel, what I see, and what I think. And my high school Art teacher, Mr. Jackson, helped me develop my skills so I could get the scholarship to college and achieve my dream as an artist. He considered me an old colorful soul reborn to revive the views of art in this gray world - his words, not mine.

And, in a way, they were all right. I did have a terrible life and, despite me having Riley there to listen, I explain better about anything relatable in this world through my paintings, and that is what made me grow ahead of my time. I don't consider myself the best of all time, I'm just realistic of what is going on. That is what helps me come up with things but lately my mind has been blank from all inspirations.

What is it about me that is incomplete? A lot of things. I couldn't think of what to pick.

"I have until the end of this semester," I mumbled, turning my attention back to the TV and munched on the brownie as Blarg gives Ashley a moonstone to see if she was sired to him like Mercurio said.

"You don't usually put off your class work on the last minute," stated Riley. "At least not the class you like."

"I don't rush on them either," I added.

Riley stopped typing again and peered at me with a concern glint in her eyes. "Is everything okay with you, Maya?"

"Just peachy."

"You sure? You haven't been okay since you came home. Did anything happen at the interview that you're not telling me?"

"If something were to happen at that interview you would have gotten a call from me from the police station to come bail me out because I assaulted a CEO and probably have to call your mom to get me out of a lawsuit, " I said.

Riley pursed her lips. "Peaches, what happened?"

I sighed and reached for the remote to lower to volume, knowing that she was not going to let this go until I speak. I moved to face her completely. Riley even placed her laptop on the coffee table to do the same.

"I went to the diner on my way here," I confessed.

Riley's eyes widen. "Maya!"

"I know, I know," I frowned. "I got a little hungry so I stopped by there and Heather gave me the soup for you. I just ordered a tuna melt and left. Well, not until after I had a little encounter with a fuckboy but that's it."

"Maya," Riley started slowly, calmly. "You know you need to stop going to that diner. Every time you do that you're -"

"- Making it worse for me," I finished. "I know, I know. But I can't help it, Riles, I just can't. You know that."

Her eyes grew soft. "Of course, I do. You know I do. And I'm happy to see that you're being hopeful every time you head over there but it's been years since you and Shawn filed the report on your mother. It's going to be five years. The detectives tried everything they could but it became a cold case -"

"Riley, please," I pleaded. I could see my vision was blurring up a bit by the tears I'm trying to swallow down. "Don't tell me to give up. Not yet. I need you of all people to still have hope in this with me. I've given up on so many things before but I can't give up on my mom - not when we got everything we wished for." I sucked in a shaky breath. "Please."

"Okay." Riley shuffled closer to me to wrap her arm around me and lay my head on her shoulder as she stroked my hair. "I just don't like seeing you like this, Peaches. I worry about you. I don't want to see you hurt because I love you."

"I love you too," I said. "And thank you for being concern but don't be. The only time you can worry about is if my failed father suddenly shows up."

I felt her shudder. "Don't mention him. It's still a sensitive to talk about for you and me. I don't want to be reminded of what he has been doing to you for years. I'm still disappointed in myself for not noticing the signs when it was obvious."

I shook my head. "It's not your fault. It's no one's. I just hid it too well."

"Still…" she trailed off to give me a kiss on the head and tightened her hold on me. "I should have noticed when you started to wear long sleeves and an excessive amount of makeup. You're not the kind of girl to go full out on that."

"Yeah."

We stayed quiet for a while, the lighting of the TV brightening up our faces but we weren't really watching the program anymore. There was a bittersweet taste in the atmosphere and it doesn't surprise me that the good nature between us had died down to this. It happens all the time when my father is mentioned. He was like a taboo. The very sound of him brings back horrid memories and old scars are shown once again.

I bit my lip and screwed my eyes shut as if to hide away from the memories that would not go away. They are buried to the very back of my mind but they are never forgotten - they could not be forgotten. How could they be? So many times I needed to conceal, too many times I had to pretend, and too long the time was I had to remain strong through it all. I turned my head and hid my face in the side of Riley's neck as she continued to play with my head, the feel being a soothing gesture to keep me comforted.

Suddenly, my phone rattled on the coffee table, causing me and Riley to jump apart. At the sight of the contact picture and name appearing on the screen, my breathing became uneven. I picked it up with trembling hands then, after a quick glance to Riley and inhaling a shuddering breath, I answered it.

"H-hello?" I had to clear my throat as it came out croaked. "Hello?"

" _Hey kiddo_."

My heart sprung up in elation and anxiety at the sound of Shawn's voice. It has been over six months since I last heard from him and whenever he would try to contact me, I'd be asleep or at work or during class, and when I try to get back to him, he never answers. So to hear the velvet voice of my stepfather through the static connection, I felt absolute delight.

"Shawn," I breathed out.

" _Hey there, I hope I didn't wake you up. You sound like you did_."

"No, no," I said. "That was all Riley's doing. She woke me up because she was being clingy."

In result, I got a swift kick to the thigh under the blanket by Riley and I grinned teasingly at her as she stuck her tongue at me.

"Where are you now?" I asked.

A moment of static passed by before I could hear him clearly say, " _I made it in Minnesota an hour ago. I just got settled in this swanky motel._ "

"That's really far," I said. "Almost a whole day away."

" _Don't even get me started on the drive here_ ," he muttered and I smiled. " _Anyway, I just wanted to see how're things back at the Big Apple. How's college life treating you?_ "

I frowned. "Shawn, quit stalling. You know what I want to know."

I heard him sigh on the other end of the line and I could imagine him ruffling his hair with a grimace. " _Yeah, I know_."

"So got any leads?"

" _Only the same as last time. I'm going tomorrow to any local places and see if anyone might recognize her with the pictures I brought. Hopefully I might get somewhere_."

"Are you sure the witness said she was spotted in Minnesota?"

" _Yeah, and the guy dragging her around matched the description from the police reports_." I could hear him unzipping his suitcase. " _Don't worry, kid, I'll find her_."

I sighed. "I hope so. I still think I should have gone with you and we would have found her quicker."

" _Maya…_ "

"I know, I know." I hadn't noticed it until now that I had gotten up from the couch and went to the fridge to pull out a bottle of beer. I took out the bottle opener to pop the lid open and took a quick sip before continuing, "Mom would have been upset if I dropped out of college and didn't fulfill my dream. You tell me that all the time."

" _And with good reason_."

I pouted. "I liked it better when you were cool."

" _What do you mean? I'm still cool!_ "

"No, you're not cool like _'I still have my rebel side on'_ cool," I teased. "You have more like a _'I'm a dad who likes to bend the rules'_ kind of cool, you know."

He groaned. " _That's not nice to know_."

I laughed under my breath before taking another swing of my beer. I could see Riley gathering up her books, stacking them in a tower on the table, and closing her laptop after shutting it down before she walked in the kitchen to raid the fridge for a late snack. She was being polite to not interfering with my phone call but I could tell she was itching to intrude since she is obviously eavesdropping by the way she is glance at me over the door of the fridge.

" _Anyway, kiddo, I just called to let you know I'm alive and breathing so go back to sleep. You probably have school later. Tell that Baby Cory to stop being so clingy or to cuddle with that weird bear that has no face_ ," said Shawn.

My frown deepened. "Shawn...Dad…"

" _I know, Maya. I'm trying here._ "

"It's been years...What if….What if, she's…."

" _She's out there, Maya, I know it. And she's alive. If she wasn't then I wouldn't have gotten this far_."

"The detectives gave up because they couldn't get close to finding her. They said every time they feel like they got close to her, she's actually five steps farther from them. It's been years since we reported her missing…." I could feel the tears building up. "What if...she's never found?"

The line was silent for a minute and I waited patiently to see what Shawn could possibly say to make the situation any better. I knew nothing can, I just wanted to see him attempt to when he knows it too. The facts are right in front of us, the inevitable is there, yet we somehow are holding on to the impossible. I wonder if that had anything to do with the influence Riley had on me or her father and Shawn's longtime best friend, Cory, did to him.

After another moment has passed, I realized that he was too quiet in the other end and when I pulled the phone away from my ear, I saw the connection had dropped. I placed the phone shakily on the counter, maintaining a steady breath even though my throat felt like it was clogging up. The back of my eyes were on fire as more tears slipped onto my face, closing my eyes to stop them as I thumbed them away, but soon ended up with the back of my hand against my nose as I let out choked sobs.

Riley immediately came to me and embraced me from behind, laying her head on my shoulder. She had slid her arms around my torso to tangle her hands with mine and trap me in a much-needed hug, grasping me in sanity that I appear to be slipping from. I appreciate that she did this; I'm sure if I were to fall in that endless void then I'd never find a way to come back and to have her hold me like she was my lifeline is my safe haven.

"Everything is going to be okay," she whispered quietly into my ear but it sounded muffled through my heaving wails.

"I-I...want h-her b-back!" I cried.

"I know." She rubs her thumbs over my knuckles and nuzzles into the crook of my neck as she tightens her hold on me to pull me closer to her, almost molding her front to my back. I slumped into her arms, bowing my head as my tears dripped from my nose.

"She's….She's been gone f-for...so long...I-I…." I sputtered.

Riley nodded. "I know, honey."

"What if she's...she's…"

"She's not."

"But what if Shawn -"

"He'll find her." Riley loosened her hold to turn me around and kept me steady by grasping on my shoulders as she looked at me directly in the eyes. She was over me by a few inches, nearly a foot, so she had to looked down at me while I looked up at her. "Listen to me; Shawn has been looking for your mom for years now and he's gotten pretty far without the police's help. Do you think he would have stopped anytime soon if he believed your mother to be dead by now?"

I sniffled and shook my head.

"Exactly. He knows she's out there somewhere, wanting to come home to him and you as much as you both do, and he's not gonna stop until he finds her," she continued. She lifted one hand to wipe away my tears with her thumbs. "So don't give up hope yet, Maya. You've been holding onto it for so long and that's probably the same thing your mother is holding onto to stay alive through whatever she's going through, wherever she is. Okay?"

I nodded. "Okay."

"Now, how about we finish our brownies, finish one more episode of Vampire Diaries, and call it a night?" she insisted. "You deserve the rest after staying up late for me."

"Sounds good."

Riley gave me a tight smile before she wrapped her arms around me and guided me to the living room. I allowed her to lead me back on the couch, to pull the blanket over my lap, and to place the plate of unfinished brownies on my lap because I was really numb from everything since my emotions were jumbled up. Also because I really needed her caring attitude.

Riley crawled under the blanket then grabbed the remote from the table and laid her head on my lap as she turned up the volume. I instinctively started playing with her hair, twirling it around my fingers as we watched Blarg attempt to release Ashley from the sire bond. It was a habit I've grown around her whenever she was feeling ill or needed a friend in need or if she is struggling to sleep. Right now, I know she will because she was worried about me. It was like a sixth sense to me.

But I allowed myself to have a small selfish moment in taking advantage of her presence to keep me comforted and at ease. I know she will be lacking in sleep yet I needed her. I couldn't deny her when I needed her.

So I tilt my head back in the pillows, my eyes slightly droopy, possibly heavy from all the tears they were drained out of, and continued to play with Riley's wavy locks as the episode played.

* * *

For the following week, I threw myself into my work and studies in order to keep myself distracted from dreading over the fact that my mother could not be ever found or my phone call with Shawn. I still took care of Riley, too, making sure that she is taking Heather's cure soup (she never liked the aftertaste of it) and she kept herself busy meanwhile during her temporary house arrest. She spent the time cramming in for her finals while consulting about the latest edition of the school newspaper with her other journalist buddies. By Thursday, she was back to full health and she was nothing but a hopping ball of endless sunshine and constant pep. That's better than seeing her dressed in her pajamas that made her seem like purple cats threw up on her.

Charlie's visits were frequent; he'd come over to do study sessions with us. His obvious motives were too easy for me - Riley was still oblivious. I wonder if her breakup with Evan made her blind to how men are when they're affectionate to women. She can easily spot a man being romantically involved with another man or another woman who isn't her yet she cannot seem to see Charlie to her. It baffles me, really.

Sometime in the week, we visited Riley's parents, Topanga Matthews, to keep her updated on our daily activities and our studies but also to check up on her. It was a bit ironic; throughout all of high school, Riley would argue with her mother about the things they want and the most Riley wanted was to be treated like an adult, but now that she lives separately from her mother, she couldn't seem to stop missing her and would plan lunch dates or come home for dinner as much as she could.

Not all of their plans are possible because of Riley's study plans and her shifts at the supermarket taking up her time or Topanga's position as Head of her law firm and many cases. They manage to make it up with movie nights or afternoon shopping. I wouldn't be involved even when they invite me because I didn't want to intrude in their moments and half of the time I spend at my job either way.

I would really use that time to call Riley's father, Cory Matthews, who I considered Father Figure Number One and the first man I actually let in my life before Shawn came around. It was more of a brief conversation - if you could call it that - of occasional grunts and murmurs as he would be focused on grading his student's papers and I would be occupied in trying to come up with a specific topic for my final project. It isn't normally like this - Matthews is quite the blubber mouth. When he is finished with his task, he'd give me his full attention and talk about anything that comes up to his mind, trying to help me with my project like he used to. We mostly ended up talking up the upcoming event of Paco's Tacos giving away their tacos for twenty-five cents.

Topanga would come back to the apartment after her mother-daughter day with Riley, carrying multiple bags that are actually Riley's, and a bag of takeout.

"How are things, Maya?" she would ask me as soon as she sees me and she would give me a long hug with a kiss on my cheek. I know she does it to calm my nerves about my mother as she and her husband know the story behind Shawn's long trips. She is also helping him, searching up credit card records, motel room records, travel ticket records, or any phone bills, that have helped Shawn reach so far and giving him leads on witnesses who spotted my mother.

For a moment, I hesitated but immediately forced a smile. "I'm fine."

"You sure? Riley told me you had a rough day a week ago," she said. I sent a piercing glance over at Riley, who grinned sheepishly.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," I said through gritted teeth. "Just another asshole I won't have to see again."

Topanga pursed her lips. "Maya, what did I say about using vulgarity?"

I grinned. "It's very unlady-like and nobody would take me seriously with a sharp tongue like mine."

"Exactly. So would you please learn to use more alternative words? At least when you have company around."

"Fine. I'll see what else my tongue can do." I winked at her playfully, making her roll her eyes and shake her head at me. "I'm kidding. What I mean to say is I had an unfortunate luck to encounter a man of high society and a dry demeanor. Better?"

"Much better," she smiled pleasantly.

"Good. Now what did you get me?"

We ended up spending the day crashed in the living room, giggling about the most hilarious memories, speaking about each other's lives, ranting about our bad days at work, and watching a marathon of Supernatural until Riley and I fell unconscious on Topanga's shoulders.

* * *

I was bearing a secret that I never told Riley. Ever since the interview, I've had this odd dream where I'm in absolute darkness and the only thing in sight are these pairs of green eyes. The same pair that Lucas Friar has. I could even hear his voice calling out to me, saying Miss Hunter in that irresistible husky voice, crawling around inside my head for hours until I couldn't take it anymore and end up screaming into the pillow like a madwoman. Then the thought of him haunted me, embedding his handsome portrait even more. It was ridiculous how impossible it was to not think about him. The cowboy had somehow imprinted on me and it scared the shit out of me.

Throughout my teenage and early adult years, I found many boys charming or attractive but not many of them held the potential that I wanted. My expectations in men weren't high - I just couldn't find any who really catches my eye. I considered myself a relationship failure. I felt I was best suited for friendship with my guy friends while some of them lusted to be more or going on one date to crush them out of their infatuation in me so I wouldn't have to face the dreadful question, 'what are we?'.

It's my mistake. I would end up comparing the guys with my last relationship with Riley's uncle, Joshua Matthews, which did not end in the best way and the feelings I held for him were still lingering. Complicated obstacles came in our way and put us in a real uncomfortable position.

I was in my room, getting ready to go to work. I'm a manager at a nice little coffee shop in the ground level of the Manhattan brownstone. It was given to Topanga after the original owner, Mrs. Svorski, passed away years ago and it was later turned from a small bakery to a hangout cafe spot for high school and college students. My mother was the manager prior to sudden her disappearance, I was promoted to her position until she was found and Topanga would come in once in a while during her day offs to see how smooth things are running.

It was also neat reading area for people to lounge around to do some last minute studying, do their homework in peace, check out books to their liking, or, like me, to loose themselves in a blank sketchbook making pictures beyond their world.

I started working at Topanga's when I started NYU. It's become one of the most popular areas in Greenwich Village ever since it's been remodeled and, over the years I worked there since I was seventeen, I've gained a lot of experience in customer service and come to learn almost the entire menu of desserts or beverages or novels we own - although, ironically, I've total shit in what ingredients we used to make our desserts when I've eaten almost all of them. My mother was an expert on it.

"Maya, I'm going for a run!" shouted Riley.

I was buttoning up my black polo when I heard her. Riley liked to take afternoon runs around the neighborhood before she takes her exams to sweat off her anxiety. I finish the last two buttons, leaving the others undone before I went to poke my head out of the door.

"Don't go through that alley I told you about," I said. "Also I'm going to work in twenty so I'm giving Mama Arroyo the spare key. I'll probably be back around ten, tops."

"That's the third time this week you've picked up a double shift, Maya," said Riley. "Don't you think you're overworking yourself a little too much? We already paid this month's rent."

I smiled. "There was nobody else who could take the shift. Ophelia already had a family thing to attend to after work and Susan called in sick. Ricky is on his vacation."

"Susan calls in sick a lot," stated Riley. "How do you know she's not lying to go to some party or sneak off with her boyfriend? She's devious like that."

"There's no way I could prove that she's lying about that, sweetie, unless I catch her in the act. Either way I can't send her to work if she claims to be sick because that's against the law," I said. "Don't worry about it. I got it covered. I need the money either way - there's a sale in Demolition and I really want that Van Halen shirt I had my eyes on for weeks."

Riley chuckled with a roll of her eyes and she bend down to tie her laces. I couldn't grow accustomed to her pre-workout outfit that consisted a purple sports bra and a jogging pants that made the curve of her thighs more defined. She was never the kind to express her body openly, knowing that there are some people who have a lingering eye, but ever since her relationship with Evan, she grew more confident with her assets and she still managed to keep her decency. She looked impressive but I'll never get used to see how much she's grown out of her innocent age.

I just wish she left her nagging persona behind as well. I knew that is something about her that will never stop. She may be my best friend, my sister from another mister, and even when I want to strangle her, I know she only does it to look out for my best interest.

Once she was sure, Riley straightened herself and opened the door behind her. "I'll have my phone with me if anything. I'll stop by afterwards when I'm done with my errands."

"Yeah, yeah," I said nonchalantly as I grabbed the apron from the back of the couch and tied it around my waist. "Just don't forget your water. I don't need you dehydrating yourself."

Riley took her water bottle and iPhone from the nearest chair she had it on before she turned her heel. "Love you!"

"Love you too!" I hollered before she left.

* * *

I managed to clock in within two minutes before my shift started. If I hadn't gotten in the subway in time, I would have been fifteen minutes late. I'm glad I didn't choose this day to wear my heeled combat boots or I would have fallen a lot. It seemed like the shop is in total chaos the moment I went it because I could see all the chairs occupied by groups of teenagers or families and a long line of waiting customers was spewing out of the entrance was seen heading to the front counter where I can see Ophelia attempting to attend to all of them. I immediately got into work, taking in order left and right, serving group to group, and giving out takeouts to multiple parents.

Around lunchtime, the rush had died down with a few groups loitering about, others asking for a refill and an extra cheesecake, but everything was steady. Ophelia took the chance to leave for her break while I spend my time to count the money in the register and check on some of the order we made. I'm engrossed in doing the math of the prices, double-checking the catalogs numbers of the sweets and beverages we've sold against the amount we have collected in the register, my eyes flicking from the order cheek to the small tablet hidden behind the counter and back.

Then the small bell hanging overhead of the entrance dinged, telling me a new customer is here, and I glanced up momentarily to let them know they have my attention only to smirk invitingly once I spotted the familiar man spiky black hair and the tattoo sleeves with a million meanings making his way towards me. A crowd of girls instantly turned their eyes to him when he passed by, their faces lighting up in pink, before they turned to each other to whisper excitedly and tittering giddily as they glanced at him.

"What are you doing here, Rebel?" I asked jokingly.

"Is that any way to greet a customer, blondie?" he countered in the same tone.

One of my longtime friends who I tolerate, Brandon, was a black-color loving, tattoo-covered, and mechanic expert with messy dark hair and onyx eyed beauty. He made all the girls swoon by just his presence like the ones in the corner. A lot of people mistaken him and I as a couple due to our similarities in style and other interests but I could never see him as nothing more than a good friend I could hang out with.

"Not when you're a regular," I said. "The usual?"

"Yep."

I reached behind the counter to take out a slice of cheesecake I had saved for him in the small refrigerator then took out the can of whip cream and strawberry sauce.

"Anything to drink?"

"Water."

I complied and went back to the register as he pulled out his wallet from his back pocket. I smiled slightly. He had made that wallet out of duct tape with his grandfather and he still uses it to this day even it is has a few tears or unstuck in some places. I held up a hand before he could take out his money.

"Leave it," I said. "On the house."

He looked at me incredulously. "You being generous? You got a day left to live or something?"

I rolled my eyes. "What? I can't do a nice thing for once? You really think that little of me, Rebel?"

"Only when you always demand the money out of me, Hunter." He put the wallet back in his pocket and started to add the toppings on it. "Just put it on my tab."

"Your funeral," I retorted as he took a forkful of his cheesecake. "So what's new at the shop today?"

"Same old, same old," he shrugged. "Today Carl came in with a Chevy. Late 1980's."

"Vintage. Nice."

"Yeah but the owner really fucked up the engine and transmission. It's a miracle Carl managed to push that thing for blocks. I'll have to fill in an order later for that and file it in."

I winced. "Damn. A car in that era and to pay the shipping and the purchase of the parts of a car that is hardly seen nowadays…" I sucked air through my teeth. "That's gonna be around a grand."

"Between fifteen-hundred or two, and that depends if the damage isn't too great than we think it is," he said.

"Feel bad for the sucker," I remarked. "Does he really want the truck that bad? I mean I get it's an antique and all but honestly if it's meant to be history might as well just let the thing rest in peace."

"I don't think it'll be a problem for the guy," Brandon said. "Carl said it's a guy from the upper side."

I blinked. "What the hell does a guy from the east side want with a 80' Chevy?"

Brandon shrugged. "I don't know. Guess he wants to seem all hipster or something like that. Girls who don't know a thing about cars get impressed and are easy to get in bed. Maybe he wants to get laid by some piece of ass he has his eyes on. Either way it benefits more for me."

"Ooh, someone sounds bitter," I cooed with a playful pout. "Are you disappointed that you couldn't impress me in bed with your extensive knowledge in cars, baby?"

Brandon smirked. "You wish I was impressing you."

"Sure you do," I said. "Need I remind what kind of car I own?"

Brandon narrowed his eyes. "Shut up."

I laughed as he flicked me off. The bell dinged again as another crowd of people came in, some of them coming to me to make an order, others going to the small bookstore, and the rest joined the rest of their friend group at the corner. I was not in much of a rush with the customers as there are not much people here now, just a scattered bunch who are quietly reading and munching on pastries.

"Tell me again why we hang out in this place?" grumbled Brandon; he had finished his cheesecake and he was currently sipping away his water. "All there is just a bunch of undeveloped teens and old farts who come by pretending to order just to get a good look at your rack." He peered disapprovingly at me. "Which you should button up, by the way. Have some dignity, woman."

"I work here - you're the one who hangs out around here," I corrected as I carefully grabbed a cinnamon roll from the oven case with a napkin and handed it to the customer before I took his slip. "By the way, this size is the only one they had available for me; if I button it up any more then I'll suffocate. It's not my fault those perverted geezers got nothing better to do with their lives."

I glanced at the slip; caramel macchiato with a light whip, extra vanilla, and cinnamon stick on the side. I place it on the order tray before I went to the second station to begin brewing.

"And the only way you've noticed it is because you've been staring down at it too," I added with a wink. "So you're at fault on that one."

"I'm a man who enjoys the greatness of the physique of woman - I shouldn't be at fault to that," said Brandon. He nodded in greeting at one of the regulars who had stopped by and taken their usual spot within the reading area.

"Whatever," I muttered. I could never win an argument against this guy; he always has to have the last word and my patience runs thin if a topic takes too long. I added the extra vanilla and foamed milk in the mug before I went in the pantry to open up a fresh pack of cinnamon sticks the same time I heard the front door bell ding again.

"Brandon!" exclaimed a familiar voice that made my heart leap in joy. I quicken my pace, grabbing a jar of sugar on the way, and stepped out of the pantry in time to see a mop of gentle blonde hair pounce on top of an unexpected yet amused Brandon.

"Hey there, tyke," he said with a chuckle as he ruffled the young one's hair. "How was school?"

"It was fun!" he answered. "We played dodgeball in recess today and we lost but I scored kicked the ball over the fence, and then Mrs. Kobb gave me extra pudding in lunch today, and I got an A on my spelling test, and then we all read Peter Pan, and then after school, Lucy Gluckman kissed me and then -"

"Whoa, whoa," I intervened as I came out from behind the counter. "What's this I hear about kissing?"

"Maya!"

I instantly dropped to my knees to catch the little ball of energy in my arms and buried my face in his bright locks, inhaling the scent of lemon and paste as he wrapped his legs around my torso whilst I straightened up.

"I missed you," he said.

"I missed you too, Jon."

Jonathan Chet Hunter; he is my little half-brother, the purpose why I go through all the struggles of life for. He was conceived three years after my mom and Shawn got married in my freshmen year in high school. He had my mother's personality and hair color but he looks so much like Shawn, the resemblance so uncanny that he might as well be a miniature version of him. He also dressed in the same style similar to me and Shawn combined; a yellow flannel shirt with the collar popped up, his Brooklyn shirt tucked in the front to show his belt buckle, a pair of washed out jeans scrunched up at the bottom by combat boots. His hair is also the same as Shawn's in his age from all the pictures I've seen.

It is entertaining and distressing when people would instantly assume I'm the mother because of our same sense of humor and our same hair color. It was pleasing because it was like a reminder of how close our bond is because my main priority is to be a great big sister to the little tyke, especially after all the constant question I bothered Riley with since she is an older sibling herself. Yet it frightened me a bit because it also shows that I am capable of handling the pressures of motherhood but I don't really want to have children.

It is a secret fear I kept from everyone in my life; I'm scared that I would not be able to keep my children protected from the life I had to endure and suffer through all the hardships I had to get to to be where I am all because I wasn't an amazing mother like mine was to me. I don't think I would have the strength to give them what they need to say 'I lived a good life' or I would end up disappointing my mother and humiliating my children for being the person behind their births.

I might be overthinking. I may not be. Either way, I couldn't tell how the future is holding out to me.

I pulled away from Jonathan but still held him in my arms and smiled tenderly at his toothless grin. "Now what's this I hear about you kissing? You're too young for that, you little gremlin."

Jonathan made a disgusted face. "It was gross; me and Gluckman were hanging out at the monkey bars with Roy and Diane, and we were playing grown-up truth and dare, and Roy dared Gluckman to kiss me. Now I have cooties!"

I laughed. "Well, you asked for it. You shouldn't have played _'grown-up truth and dare'_ in the first place."

"I didn't want her to kiss me!"

I carefully lowered him back on his feet and smirked at him, "Too bad for you."

"Maya, you're mean!"

I winked. "Tell me something I don't know." I ran my hand through his messy hair. "Did you eat anything? Are you hungry?"

"No, I went to Wendy's on the way here. Can I have a cupcake?"

"It depends, do you have homework today?"

Jonathan pouted and nodded. "I have stupid math homework. I hate that class!"

"You hate every class," I pointed out.

"So did you," he retorted. "Dad said so."

"You can't argue with that, blondie," added Brandon with a smirk. I glared up at him dangerously even though I knew that had no affect on him.

"Either way, I had to do my homework and tests," I said. "Now go and do your homework. If you have any problems you don't understand, you can come to me. Maybe I'll give you a cupcake later when you're done."

His brown eyes glowed. "Okay!"

I smiled after me as he raced over to the reading area and sat at his usual table where I could have a clear sight on him. I could understand why Jonathan found all of his classes boring, despite being an excellent student. He goes to Greenwich Village Elementary School, one of the popular public schools in the area, the same one I went to after I met Riley, and they do encourage their students to strive for success in order to maintain their high ranking in education.

I used to be one of the members of the honor board, who did all of my assignments, finished all of my homeworks correctly, aced all of my exams, and participated in class, to impress my mother and gain her attention but later on I lacked the motivation to do well around the time the complications with my father began. It wasn't until later, during high school, that I started to try again to reach my dream career as an artist and professional photographer.

I walked back around the counter to add the final ingredients in the caramel macchiato and carefully placed it on the small plate.

"You let an eight-year old walk alone in New York?" inquired Brandon, raising a quizzical brow at me.

I shook my head. "No. Matthews picks him up on the way from work. Since the high school is only a block away, he insists to pick up Jon on the way," I said. "Matthews brings him here a lot so whenever Jon sees the place he gets the tendency to run away from him and sees me faster."

Taking a sip of his water, Brandon grunted. "Remind me again why the kid doesn't live with you?"

I pursed my lips. When Shawn made the choice to search for my mother, he had ensued his trust in me to take care of Jonathan while he was away. Unfortunately, I had college, bills, and my job to focus on and I wasn't going to be able to take care of Jonathan at the same time, so Riley had asked her parents take Jonathan in their care until I graduated from college. They were pleased to do the favor; they were talking about having another child after their youngest child, Auggie, started his first year of high school this year.

"Because I promised Shawn I would do whatever I can to take care of Jon while he's away," I answered. "He has a better chance of staying healthy and clean with the Matthews than living with me. I don't want him to feel neglected because of me."

"But you're not living alone. Can't your sunshine friend help out?"

"Riley loves Jon like she loves Auggie and I'm sure she wouldn't mind having him around - she misses Auggie like crazy. But she wouldn't be able to take care of him either for the same reasons as me. Sometimes we both won't be home because of work or other shit. Besides I trust the Matthews more than anyone. They took care of me once before."

I delicately hold the plate in my hand as I walk out from behind the counter again and headed to the customer who is sitting in the lone table by the window. He was busy hissing into the phone to notice me place his order in front of him and I walked away, biting my lip to prevent myself from laughing, having to hear bits of the conversation. It's always funny to hear husbands get in trouble with their wives.

I glance around me to see the rest of the people seemed content, no signs of needing my services shown, and I discreetly pulled out my phone to see the time. It was twelve-fifteen. I frowned; Ophelia was fifteen minutes late from her break.

I sat down on the chair behind the counter and turned on the tablet. Brandon had gone to talk to the same companion he nodded to earlier, which is good for me because he was an easy distraction to me, and I needed to check the supplies to see what I needed to order. So far, I'm up to my second to last pack of coffee beans and have three packs of sugars in the pantry. There are also the biscuits and small cakes - I'll have to make an call tonight to Minnie's Bake Shop and Millie-Feuille's Bakery.

I jotted down my reminders in a small sticky note and pinned it next to the tablet as the entrance bell dinged. The whiff of scented cherries hit my nose.

"Ophelia, you're late," I said as the sound of heeled shoes came my way. "You know I'll have to put that in your record."

"Sorry, Maya," she said as she approached me around the counter and hugged me her slender arms from behind like she always does; she is a rather friendly person. "I ran by a distraction on the way back. Didn't notice the time."

I was unfazed. "Doesn't matter. Next time drag your distraction with you so you won't be late. Another rush came in and I swamped." I send her a sardonic smirk over my shoulder. "So next time be a darling and don't leave me to fend for myself like that."

Releasing me, Ophelia blew me a kiss. "You got it, sugar. Besides, he's on his way now."

"Oh joy," I muttered.

I heard the bell again, but I didn't look up this time, thinking it could be the unwanted diversion Ophelia was talking about, and continued to try to match the catalog with today's numbers. However, my blood ran cold and my body froze when I heard Jonathan cheer.

"Uncle Josh!"

I forced myself to glance up and find myself locked in the mesmerizing crystal blue gaze of the only man who is able to make my heart rise up and shatter at once.

 _Epic heart failure_.

He was still beautiful, maybe even more, since the last time I saw him. The way he looked in that grey wife beater with the flannel shirt tied around his waist and his torn dark jeans with matching boots was bewitching. Then with the way how his unruly hair was tucked back under my favorite beanie of his made my lip bite in appreciation of that marvelous sight of someone so pleasing. How can someone like him exist?

Jonathan ran up to Josh and he captured the little one in his arms, lifting him up in the air above his head, making Jonathan laughed excitedly as he kicked his legs.

"I told you not to run away from me like that," said Josh sternly, though, he was smiling that stunning smile of his, revealing his pearly white teeth, as he lowered my little brother. "What if some pedophile snatched you?"

"What's a pewdiepie?" asked Jonatan.

"Pedophile," chuckled Josh. "Is a very bad person kids in your age shouldn't get close to. And they're everywhere so next time stay close to me."

"Okay!"

Josh hiked Jonathan up on his shoulders and walked over to me. He held this impassive glint in his ocean eyes as he stared at me, his wide grin shrinking down into a small, soft smile. To see him like this has my heart restarting. I didn't know it had died until I felt it accelerate erratically.

"Maya," he greeted.

"Josh." I ran a hand through my hair. "I didn't know you'd be here today."

"I wasn't planning coming over today but Cory asked me to pick up this little tyke from school," he explained. "He had a staff meeting to attend to and I was close to the area either way."

"And you ran away from him?" I asked Jonathan flatley, eyeing him with strong eyes.

Jonathan grinned meekly before turning away from me, his face bright red with a nervous expression masking over it. Josh chuckled merrily as he lifted Jonathan off his shoulders and placed him on the counter as I crossed my arms, never wavering my gaze.

"Jon?"

He glanced at me through his hair. "Am I in trouble?"

I brushed it away from his eyes and I got distracted for a second; he reminds me so much of Shawn with his eyes because they held the same compassion and affection I used to stare into. I comb the rest of his hair back, running my nails across his scalp, and then gently rubbed his back.

"No," I said. "You just don't get a cupcake today. Next time don't run away from anyone again and maybe I'll give it to you."

"No!" he whined with an adorable pout. "You promised me a cupcake if I did my homework!"

"Then you should have thought of that before you ran away." I flicked my finger at his nose, making him scrunch it up in annoyance, then I messed around with his hair. "Now go do your homework. I'll check on it later to see if you made any mistakes."

Jonathan knew better than to argue with me. He learned from last time that I would only make his punishment worse if he ever talked back to me. He hopped off the counter and dragged himself over to his chair with his head hung low and his shoulders slumped. Josh took a seat in front of me and folded his hands on the counter, the gentle smile never leaving his graceful face.

"You should give the kid a break," he said. "He was just excited to see his big sister again. The only time he gets to stay with you is close to the weekends and after school if you're working. You can't blame him for that."

"I'd rather be hard on him and make him learn to be safe," I retorted.

He snickered. "If you were to say something like that back then I would have thought you were joking."

"But I'm not. That's my little brother, Josh, and I promised Shawn I'd take care of him while he's away. I don't think Shawn would ever forgive me if he got a phone call from me saying that Jon got kidnapped by some pedophile or worse. Jon is, technically, Shawn's first born."

"I know where you're getting at, Maya but still," he said. "Instead of torturing the little guy, give him that cupcake you promised. This time for learning his lesson."

"I'll consider it." I tapped my nails against the counter while biting my lip; I couldn't believe that after all the time has passed, I still have his horrid habit whenever he is around. "Since you're here - is there anything I could get you?"

"Yeah, I'll just have a cup of coffee. Only - "

"Straight black," I smirked. "I remember."

Emotion grew in his eyes as they soften and his smile became tender. "That's right."

"I'll have that ready for you, Mr. Matthews," I said.

I try to seem nonchalant as I turn around to the coffee and get it to start brewing, but really I'm concentrating hard to not tumble over my own feet - my legs are suddenly rubber, making my knees shake under my weight. I'm so glad that I opted the chance to offer my services and take the distraction it provided me with. I never thought I'd be so happy to work.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Ophelia return from the back room carrying a plastic tin. Her main job was bussing the tables when I'm around. As she walked pass the counter, she quickly whispered to Josh and he nodded with a smile while she slipped him a crumbled piece of paper before she went to the deserted tables.

"Do you want any desserts?" My voice was a bit too high. I tried to not make it obvious how much it bothered me that Josh was taking numbers of women I work with, of women in general, in front of me or how that one future phone call could lead to a potential relationship with them. I glanced at him over my shoulder and regret it almost immediately. Damn, he looks so delicious with that devilish smile of his.

"Give me the best ones you got," he said.

"Pistachio cake it is."

As the coffee machine is brewing, I walked in the back room to the freezer and reached inside the cake selection. I licked my lips at the view; I always have a horrible temptation to eat of all these good sweets whenever I see them. I pulled out a piece of Josh's favorite cake and walked back out of the room to place the dessert in front of him before I went back to the coffee machine, knowing it was close to being done.

"It's surprisingly steady today," he said as I pour the batch in a mug and carried it to him. "Thanks." He took a tentative sip of it, humming in delight, and then he has a bite of his cake.

"It was busier earlier," I said. "I had to handle a rush by myself. I barely got everyone."

"That's rough. At least you survived or you wouldn't be talking to me right now."

"True." I pressed my lips together, narrowing my eyes at him. "I wouldn't have had the struggle if Ophelia had gotten back on time. She said she was distracted on the way back."

Josh licked his lips after he took a sip of his coffee. "Yeah, I met her on the way. She and Mikey seem to hit it off. She ask me to give him her number because she forgot to give it to him, saying she didn't want to get late."

I don't want to see how red my face is at the moment. Mikey was one of Josh's old roommates and best friend when they attended NYU in their final year. I met him when Josh and I used to date, and he was a good guy with a hilarious sense of humor. I instantly befriended him. I haven't seen him, though, since the horrid breakup between me and Josh. I am surprised to hear he connected well with Ophelia; she was more of a club-hopping kind of gal and he is all about fun but puts boundaries on activities that include alcohol and drugs.

"Oh," was all I said. I pretended to rearrange the napkin holder to avoid the smug smirk he has.

"Maya," began Josh. "I know you thought I was planning to hook up with Ophelia."

"So what if you were?" I tried to keep my voice placid. "It's none of my business who you hook up with. You could go out with half of the girls in New York and I still wouldn't care."

Josh remained stoic with his signature smirk. "Really?"

"Really."

Josh clicked his tongue. "So I guess you wouldn't mind if I went over to Ophelia right now and ask her to give me Susan's number. Maybe I'll take her on a date this Friday."

I bit my tongue. He, of all people, knows that I have a distaste towards Susan. She is the worst employee at Topanga's with all the times she called out, came late, and did a no call no show, making me or Ophelia do unwanted double shifts. Unfortunately she was needed during this season.

"Cool," I murmured.

Finally, the mask on Josh's face fell and it was replaced with sincere eyes along with an uncharming frown. He reached over to take my hands and rubbed his thumbs over my knuckles. The sensation made goosebumps rise on my arms as I savored the velvet smooth skin of his skin brush against mine. It has been so long since I felt this and the impact hit me twice as strong than I anticipated but it was more marvelous than the first time.

"Maya," he said. "You know me. You know I would never try to hook up with any of your friends or coworkers. That's disrespectful to you."

"I really don't care what you do, Matthews," I mumbled.

"Maya," he sighed.

"We broke up, Josh!" I hissed, finally losing my tolerance with him, and I snatched my hands away from his grasp. I probably seem borderline childish but I couldn't help it when it came to him; this boy, now a man, was my first love and to see him again, not being able to smother him with the love I held for him was too painful.

Josh glared at me. "It wasn't a mutual decision - _you_ broke up with me. _You_ ended the relationship and for no reason too. I can't see what I did to make you do that."

"You know why."

"Maya, I was careful with you. I did everything I could to make you comfortable with our relationship and to help you get over what happened with your father. I never once, once, pushed you to do anything out of your comfort zone. That night when we were about to have sex was your choice - I was slow in case you wanted to back out."

I bit my lip. Yes, I did break up with the boy I was in love with since seventh grade. Indeed, it was my choice to give up my virginity to Josh. I couldn't blame him for that. It was all my choice.

"It isn't my fault that after we were about to do it that you had an episode." His voice was now soft, his eyes were now gentle. "I really tried to be what you needed."

My heart clenched for him. I could hear the honesty in his voice and I believed every word. He never lies to me.

You're probably confused about him and I. I'll tell you the story; Josh is three years older than me and he is Riley's uncle and also the youngest brother of her father and my former teacher, Cory Matthews. I had a crush on him during my seventh year then it slowly molded into this unexpected love as the years went on by and in the middle of my freshmen year, he had confessed that he felt the same way as me but we didn't start dating until my senior year when the age difference wasn't a problem anymore.

We were together for four, almost five, unforgettable years until last year when I broke up with him. Had it turned out terrible? Yes. He didn't tell it so well and it was difficult for me to force myself to go along with my decision. Everything he said was true; he tried to be everything I needed but the night when I chose to try to give him my innocence, I went overboard and it ended up being the end of our relationship.

It put a strain of our close friendship, also made it complicated for Riley to stay balanced between her uncle and me, and there was also obvious tension between us whenever we are in the same room, but we never collided until today. To see him be so open about his efforts to me and the amount of respect he still held for me as a person, made me feel guilty to know I had broken his genuine heart over my fear of commitment and vulnerability

"I miss you, Maya," he said.

"Josh, I…"

I couldn't finish what I wanted to say; Ophelia came back with her bin full of dirty dishes and leaned closer to me. "Hey, Maya, I don't know if you heard the door but there's this really hot guy sitting at the corner over there."

"So?"

"I don't think he's a local."

"Oh goody. A fucking tourist."

"I don't think he's a tourist either. But I just don't think he lives around here. Maybe you should go up to him to make him feel more comfortable."

I look over at where she was pointing at; in the deep corner of the place was a figure of a man hunched over the menu with another man sitting beside him, talking animatedly and moving his hand in rapidly motions. Both of their backs are turned to us so I couldn't see their faces and rate the level of hotness Ophelia was geeking about. I could hear the other man laughing heartily and shaking his head as his friend continued to narrate.

"Look like tourists to me," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Wait until you see him."

"I doubt it'll make a difference."

"You know, Maya, sometimes I think you're gay. It's like no man in the world could ever make you glance over twice."

"Aw sweetheart, trust me, if I was gay, you'd be my first victim," I said sweetly, winking at her suggestively.

"Whatever," said Ophelia before she left into the back room.

I brought out the notepad and pen from the drawer behind the counter then I was about to make my way to the table but Josh had his arm out, blocking my path. I looked at him questionably and he stared back at me with lovely eyes.

"Do you think we could talk later if you're not busy?" he asked. "Is your number still the same?"

"It never changed."

"Can I give you a call later?"

"Um…" I licked my lips out of habit. "I'm pretty busy lately with finals and work. Maybe I'll let you know when everything dies down after graduation."

He looked disheartened yet he formed a smile either way, one wide enough to produced those dimples I find irresistible.

"Okay. Guess I'll see you around?"

"Yeah."

Josh got up and then he did something I didn't expect him to do; he bent his head down and pressed his soft lips against the dip of my cheeks, close to the corner of my mouth. I closed my eyes momentarily to revel in the effects of my heart trying to force itself out of my chest, trying to keep my breathing steady, wanting to remember the feel of him close to me again, and when I opened them again, he had lifted his face to kiss my forehead.

"See you around, little ferret," he whispered so quietly for me to hear only then he pulled back, gave me one last smile, before he turned away and walked out of the shop.

It wasn't until after I couldn't see his silhouette through the windows that I slowly let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and leaned against the counter, gripping on the edge like my life depended on it.

My knees were weak. My heart was out of control. My head was pounding. Oh man. He still has this affect on me. It's like a shocking reminder, a lightning bolt suddenly struck down on me, letting me know that despite the wide gap wedged between us, Josh is still somehow the man who could make me feel things I don't want to feel, and the heat was still there. The years never cooled it off.

I bit my lip and closed my eyes again as I inhaled deeply. It was my fault that the breakup happened - my fears overtook me that night and blinded me with what wasn't there. Josh was a good man, just like his brother, and he didn't deserve the hurt I caused him over my own selfish purposes. I exhaled through my nose and then swallowed heavily. Perhaps I will call him later after work and see where we could go with that talk of his.

I pushed myself off the counter and took hurried strides over to the table of the two men, trying to think up ways to die down the possibly permanent blush on my cheeks.

"Hi, I'm Maya, and welcome to Topanga's," I said, staring down at the notepad and rambled off with my usual waitress spiel. "What can I get you to drink?"

"What do you recommend, Miss Hunter?" asked a husky and familiar voice.

Frozen in awe, I lifted my eyes to find a casually dressed but awfully enticing Lucas Friar staring up at me with a polite smile. _Holy crap_. What the hell is he doing here, looking like a normal human being with his hair all tousled like he had gotten out of bed and in his simple white t-shirt and converse? He looked like one of the nicer locals of my neighborhood enjoying his days off. The sunlight beaming through the window made him glow, his hair a brighter brown, and brought warmth in his green eyes. He has an expression of deep pleasure painted on.

Beside him was the same man I saw leave his office weeks ago. I think the women there called him Mr. Babineaux. It sounds French to me. He was also dressed in casual clothes; a blue flannel shirt, khaki shorts, and a pair of clean Jordan's. There was a glint of interest in his dark eyes.

"Mr. Friar," I gasped.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Miss Hunter," he said. "I'm quite surprised to see you here."

"Just Maya. I work here."

"Yes, I can see that."

"Since when do you come here? I've worked here for years and I never seen you come here."

"I don't normally leave the office," he grinned. "But I am in town for business - the board of Towers Hotel wanted to discuss with me about the details of the art exhibit. One of my employers recommended this place for it's high quality in caffeine and services. I can see now why."

I tried to not fumble with my notepad. If it is humanly possible, I think the acceleration of my heart increased tenfold and the blush on my face was more profound by his implied compliment. I couldn't stop myself from being thrown off by the mere sight of him; those faint dreams I've been having of him do not do him justice. He was not only attractive - he is the definition of a god, showing no mercy to any working ovaries that pass by, and he is sitting here in front of me. Here in Topanga's, a shop in Greenwich Village, New York.

"Flattery won't get you a free dessert," I said curtly. "Is there anything you would like to drink?"

"What would you recommend?"

"Our popular choices are either the cream caramel cappuccino and chocolate chip mochachino. But since you're going to be attending long meetings for your stay, I would recommend you try our espresso with a shot of melted cocoa. It is optional to add more energy boost if you like."

"I'll take that in consideration for next time," he said. Next time? I doubt that. "But for now I'll have a normal espresso. And for - oh, I forgot my manners." He clapped a hand on Mr. Babineaux's shoulder. "Maya Hunter, this is Zay Babineaux, my CFO. Zay, this is Maya Hunter."

"Pleasure," he said, extending his hand out to me and I took it kindly. "So you're the little fierce blonde beauty I heard so much about."

"Good things I hope," I said. I snuck a quick eye over to Lucas in question but he had looked away quickly, looking down at the menu, and I turned my eyes back to Zay out of embarrassment. In that brief glance, I thought his cheeks were lifted as if he was smiling.

"Only that you have quite the mouth," he chuckled. "I have to say that you gained my respect for that. You won't believe how difficult it is to keep him quiet - being CEO and all, he doesn't have a day to rest that tongue of his."

 _Pretty sure it's more than talking that's the problem_. I cleared my throat as I slipped my hand back and scribbled down Lucas' order before I peered over at Zay expectantly.

"What would you be having to drink?" I asked, hoping to change the topic.

"Just a coffee is fine," he answered and I quickly wrote it down. "With light cream and two cubes of sugar."

"We don't have cubes - we have spoons."

"Then two teaspoons."

"And did you guys decide what kind of dessert you'd like or would you like me to come back later?"

"I'll just have a danish, sweetheart," said Zay; I twitched a little bit at the nickname and prevented myself from slapping him with the notepad. He rose up from his chair. "Is there a bathroom here?"

"Through that small hallway on your right."

"Thank you."

Zay send me a wink then he trudged down the path I directed him in. I rolled my eyes and turned back to Lucas to see him shaking his head while pinching the bridge of his nose. He then gave me an apologetic smile.

"I apologize on Zay's behalf for his behavior," he told me. "He can be a bit flirtatious."

"I've had worse," I responded. "At least he's more tamed about it than most guys. Otherwise, I would have slapped him all the way to Kansas."

Lucas Friar forms that provocative smile of his but it did not seem to reach his eyes, as it seems to be hidden under a facade, and I am getting the feeling that he is secretly laughing at me.

"Is there anything you want?" I asked bluntly. I just wanted to get away from this guy and this feeling in my gut.

"I heard that you guys have the best pumpkin pie - is that true?"

"My opinion would be biased."

"I would like a slice, please."

"Alright." I jotted it down. "I'll be back with your order."

I was going to turn away but Lucas stopped me by standing up and standing close to me, almost stepping into my personal space, his eyes staring at me intently.

"How long have you worked here?" he asked, intrigued. He was so close that I could smell the fresh mint on his breath and his aftershave. I had to stop myself from inhaling it in.

"Since I was sixteen," I said.

"Do you know any good hardware stores in the area?"

I blinked. I wasn't expecting that. I certainly didn't think he would ask me of all people for something that is considered to be part of the guy category. And what would this man that screams endless desire would look for in a hardware? I couldn't picture this walking Greek sculpture doing any home improvement work.

"It depends on what you're looking for, Mr. Friar," I said. "There's different hardware stores."

"I'm a little bit short of supplies I need," he answered. "Is there a hardware store that has rope, tape, and cable ties?"

I knitted my brows. _Is he some sort of serial killer planning the perfect murder?_

"Then you need to go to Garber Hardware." I took the chance to end this bizarre conversation and walked back to the counter to distract myself by making their orders. However, when I glanced over me, I could see him following me, not too close. "Is there anything else you wanted?"

"Yes." He wasn't hesitant. "I've been meaning to ask you; have you considered going to the grand opening of the art exhibit?"

"No," I said as I poured the coffee beans in the espresso machine, shut the lid, and then started the machine before I went to the other section to get started on his friend's coffee. "You know, Riley is over the moon of the article. She can't shut up about it."

"I hope she is feeling well these days."

"She is," I said as I opened a fresh pack of coffee beans and poured them in a small bowl before I used the block to grind them in. Our automatic coffee grinder needed to be repaired so I had to make the coffee from scratch in the way that my mother taught me. "She was back in her old peppy self in a blink of an eye."

"I'm assuming the article came along well?"

"She and her journalist club are still putting together the finishing touches of her last newspaper," I replied, grunting slightly as I continued to pound in the beans in the bowl. "Riley is having a hard time looking for a really good original photo of you."

"If she likes, I'll be in town for only two days and my schedule is open for tomorrow morning for a quick photo shoot," he suggested. He then reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. "I'm staying at the Towers Hotel. Here is my card - my cell number is on it. If your friend, Miss Matthews, is still interested then call me before ten tonight and I'll rent a room for the morning."

Awestruck, I took the card and grinned. "Riles is gonna get her socks knocked off. You don't know how thrilled she'll be."

I traced the edges of the card with the pads of my fingers. In tiny prints it spelled out his name and his business in an elegant script. Underneath in even smaller texts was his contact information. Lucas Friar gave me his business card. I was not dazzled by the fact this gorgeous man had given me his number but I had a right to be excited for Riley.

"It's my pleasure. I could even find a professional photographer if she wants."

"That won't be an issue - we have a great photographer."

I poured the grinded beans in the machine and refilled the water socket before I closed the lid then started the machine. I smiled at him broadly in gratitude - Riley is going to be beyond thrilled. His lips parted, as he the breath within him suddenly disappeared, and then he pressed them together as he cleared his throat. For a fraction of a second, he looked enchanted.

"Let me pay for that now," he said abruptly as he opened his wallet and held out his credit card to me. I took it while looking at him skeptically. He looked somewhat frazzled, almost like he was bashful, losing his cool demeanor momentarily, before it shortly disappeared with the enigmatic smirk.

 _Oh wow_.

He never took his eyes off me as I rang up the coffee, espresso, and two desserts.

"That will be eleven-forty-eight," I said. He was unfazed, as I expected, considering he's a millionaire. I swiped the card then handed it back to him, along with the receipt. "I'll have your order ready in a few minutes."

"Take your time - I'm in no rush," he insisted. "In the meantime, tell me more about yourself."

"I thought we already had this conversation, Mr. Friar," I retorted. I felt a strong urge to bite my lip. It wasn't every day a man like Lucas Friar sparked an interest in a street rat like me.

"I'm just curious," he said. "How long have you lived in New York?"

"All my life."

"And that boy you were talking to earlier - is he your boyfriend?"

My eyebrows furrowed. His eyes flickered into a look of judgement. Why was he so concern in my relationship status? The chances of him actually being interested in me in a romantic were very slim. Maybe it was payback for the interview.

"No."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

 _Oh, this was definitely payback_. I cocked my head to the side and said with a sarcastic smile, "I don't disclosure my life, Mr. Friar. I'm sure you out of anyone would understand that."

His smirk blossomed. "Fair enough."

Just then, the machines let out a beep. I quickly pulled out two mugs and poured the beverages in each. Then I reached in the oven case to bring out the danish for Zay before I went to the fridge in the back room to carry out a slice of the pumpkin pie for Lucas. I saw him sip tentatively on his coffee, humming in delight, and licked his lips in appreciation.

"Delicious," he said. "You make excellent coffee, Miss Hunter. I'm sure Zay will enjoy his when he comes back."

"Thank you."

"And here, this is for you. "

He withdrew a large bill from his wallet and pushed it into my hand. Our fingers brushed briefly, and my arm shook as an electrical current shot through into my nerves, making me gasp involuntarily. The sensation traveled throughout my body and then bundled up deep down in the forbidden, unexplored, depths of my abdomen. I'm sure he must have felt it too, seeing as he has not removed his hand from my palm and the intensity of his eyes was suffocating.

I inhaled quietly then looked at the bill stuck between our hands, excited to get my first personalized tip in weeks, only to be repulsed. _Fifty dollars!_

"I can't accept this," I said crudely and shoved the bill back in his hand. He seemed dumbfounded by my reaction but quickly recovered.

"No, I insist." Lucas pushed it back in my hand. "You earned it."

"No!" I argued and tried to give it back to him.

"Yours, Miss Hunter."

He was trying to seem chivalrous but in reality his unnecessarily big tip made me feel filthy. Most people would take the opportunity to grab easy money - I loathed being given such a huge gesture. I did not scream poor nor desperate. I bank account may not be overflowing like his but that doesn't mean I was a charity case.

"Seriously, I'm not taking this," I protested. "A simple two dollar tip is enough me. Your order isn't worth anything above that. It's more reasonable."

"Well, I can be considered an unreasonable man sometimes." His voice boomed. A stern expression grew upon his flawless face and his green eyes burned strongly as they locked on me. "Take it!"

Seeing as I was still refusing his offer, Lucas snatched up the fifty-dollar bill and waved it in my face. Tugging on the front of my apron with little force, he shoved the large tip inside and made a pleased smirk at me. The aggression in his voice had startled me; I was paralyzed. The abrupt movements and the decreased space between us made my cheeks grow warmer.

" _Take. Your. Hand. Off. Me._ " I hissed in a low, slow tone.

"Are you going to keep the tip?"

"I'll keep it if you take your hand off me. Or else, your ass is going to have an unpleasant meeting with my foot up in it."

"Good," he replied, putting his wallet away and releasing the pocket of my apron. Straightening his shirt, his whole posture changed drastically from that assertive man into a calm and heartwarming person. "I suppose I'll let you do your business." His tone is clipped and coo, he was all business. "I'll be waiting for your call about the photo shoot soon, I presume?"

"I'll think about it."

"Good. Until tomorrow, I hope." He gathered the coffees and dessert, impressively, in his arms and he makes a move to turn to leave but he pauses to send an ominous smile at me over his shoulder. "Oh - and it was a pleasure speaking with you, Maya. I hope to run into you again sometime."

Then he strides in a graceful fashion back to his table and I watch him in a daze as he sat down. In that same moment, Zay Babineaux returns from the restroom and he joins Lucas; they instantly resumed on their previous conversation, leaving me baffled at how well Lucas could seem like he was not here a second ago, consuming me in a bubbles that left my raging hormones running rampant from his sudden mood changes. I spend several minutes staring at their backs, seeing them speak in low voices, before my subconscious finally returned to me and I was back to Earth.

I glanced behind me, but saw no one. Ophelia had not witnessed what just occurred and the other customers were too preoccupied with their own lives or they just did not care. Digging my hand into my front pocket, I pulled out the fifty-dollar bill and stared at it in distaste. It was mocking me and I was furious. That bastard had no right. Then I looked at his business card. A part of me - a very small part of me, the part which is birthed by Satan himself - was tempted to leave him a profane message, letting him have a piece of my mind, but I quickly crushed it as the large part of me - the one which I like to call Dorothy based by Riley's good influence on me - overtook my devious urges.

"Maya!" shouted Jonathan, breaking me out of my scrambled thoughts. "I don't understand this one! Can you help me?"

I shoved both the tip and card in my apron as I made my way to Jonathan, who held an exaggerated pout of desperation towards me, making me smile fondly at him. Looking at him was like a breath of fresh air - he was a normal person.

My foot banged against the leg of a chair, causing me to lose my balance for a moment, but I recovered quickly and continued to approached Jonathan with greater success like I didn't almost fall to the possible doom of my dignity. I stared straight ahead as I reached Jonathan and I started to look over his equations whilst he recited his teacher's explanation of the subject, but from a peripheral peek, I could have sworn I saw Lucas laughing.

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 **Please Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I do not own Girl Meets World, the characters, the locations, the songs or quotes mentioned. But I do own this plot.

Also for those who are wondering; my story Finding Maya will be updated sooner than you think. I just need to finish a little editing and it will be up before the end of this week (I think). I hope you all look forward to reading it as much as I am to share it with you!

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 _I'll never be your beast of burden_

 _My back is broad but it's a hurting_

 _All I want is for you to make love to me_

 _I'll never be your beast of burden_

 _I've walked for miles my feet are hurting_

 _All I want is for you to make love to me_

 _Am I hard enough_

 _Am I rough enough_

 _Am I rich enough_

 _I'm not too blind to see_

 _I'll never be your beast of burden_

 _So let's go home and draw the curtains_

 _Music on the radio_

 _Come on baby make sweet love to me_

\- Beast of Burden; The Rolling Stones

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 _"To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering one must not love. But then one suffers from not loving. Therefore, to love is to suffer; not to love is to suffer; to suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy, then, is to suffer, but suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be happy one must love of love to suffer or suffer from too much happiness"_

\- Woody Allen

* * *

 **Chapter Four: The Weekend**

I had to wait until after I clocked out to be able to tell Riley.

The day had dragged on and the night came quickly, to my pleasure. Closing doesn't usually take long for me to do but I would have to stop once in a while to help Jonathan with some of his math equations and I already did the orders once I saw there were only two customers in sight. After I was done with my calls, balanced today's earnings, and locked up the shop, I had phoned Riley on the way home with Jonathan. It was Friday; I get to spend the weekend with him.

" _Maya Penelope Hunter, you are the epitome of a best friend a girl could ever have!_ " she squealed so loudly into my ear that I had to hold the phone rather from me and winced. She's got one hell of a mouth. I was in the corner seats of the subway, in a vacant cart, watching Jonathan happily climbing the rails like a monkey and awe at the lights that flash by in the underground tunnels. He hardly ever rides the subway so it's always an adventure for him.

"Tell me something I don't know," I said, smirking proudly.

" _But what was he doing at Topanga's?_ " Her curiosity oozed through the phone. I can't tell whether it's her inner reporter speaking or herself. Then she gasped. " _Was he there to see you?_ "

"No, Riles," I groaned. However, my heart lurched unexpectedly at the thought of it but it was cut quick after I reminded myself the reality that he was there for a quick visit before his business purpose. "He was in town for a meeting with the board of the Towers Hotel for that art exhibit he donated to."

" _Oh yeah, the one you're so eager to go to_."

I frowned. "Yeah, that one."

" _Have you found a way to go?_ "

"I've given up on it. My next paycheck isn't going to give me enough to buy the tickets and they're expensive. Almost a grand. With the money I used to pay my share of the bills and to buy food, I won't be anywhere near to even bribe a bouncer. Plus, Jon is gonna be with us this weekend and you know how fast my money gets drained with him around."

" _You really need to stop spoiling him_."

"Says the spoiled princess herself."

" _Touche. But every kid gets affected differently with the way they're spoiled. My parents spoiled me enough to not act so dramatic in public_."

"Apparently they didn't do a very good job. You do tend to have your dramatic moments like -"

" _Okay, I am the least dramatic person who has ever roamed the face of the Earth!_ "

With a smile, I rolled my eyes. "Whatever you say, Honey."

Then a screeching sound of metal scratching was heard as the subway slowed down to the next stop in schedule and Jonathan was running up to a pole so the force of the stop had caused him to lose balance and sent him stumbling onto the ground.

"Ow!" he cried. "Maya!"

"I gotta go, Riles," I sighed. "I'll talk to you more about it when I get home."

" _Good. Because we're not finished yet,"_ she stated matter-of-factly and hangs up. What a bossy girl she can be. I stick my tongue at my phone and then shoved it in my pocket as I approached my wailing half-brother.

"Alright, here we go," I said as I hauled him up onto his feet and kneeled before him. His eyes were glassy with tears and he had a reddish bump on the bridge of his nose. I lightly placed my hand it and he winced away from me.

"That hurts!" he whimpered. "I'm gonna die!"

"You're not gonna die, you dork," I said. "You just have a small bruise. When we get home we'll put some ice on that to stop the swelling. Next time, sit still in the subway unless you want to get a concussion."

"Okay."

"Alright." I cup his cheeks in my palms and tenderly kiss his bruise before I reach down for his hand. "Now stay close to me"

I clutch tightly on his small hand as the doors opened and a flood of passengers poured into the cart. I push a path for us to slip out of the crowd and then led us to the direction of the exit.

* * *

The neighbors were ecstatic to see Jonathan when we stopped at my floor. They were always so welcoming to him as if this was his home and he, in return, would be grateful of their hospitality, always striking an interesting conversation with them about his school days or listening to the elders about their childhood stories. I would allow them to spend time with him for a couple of minutes before I drag him away, telling them that it was past his curfew.

The light in the crack beneath the door indicated that Riley was still awake and most possibly waiting for me to attack me with more questions about my day at work with a certain bachelor. _Shit_. I was hoping that she would have gone to bed considering it was past ten - she always goes to sleep at ten since that was the curfew she grew up with. After the odd day I've had at work, all I wanted was to sink into a tub of hot water with Guns N Roses songs playing in the background and a nice glass of that fancy wine Charlie brought. But I knew my chances were slim the moment I walk through that door - it is in Riley's to not give up on a topic so easily.

I stalled a minute longer by digging through my pocket, pretending to search for my keys, however, I paused shortly when my fingers brushed against the material of the business card I have hidden. My encounter with Lucas at the shop was still fresh in my mind, every detail from his husky voice saying my name, his beautiful green eyes never breaking their gaze on me, to the sudden change in his demeanor was all still penetrated into my temporal lobe. The sensation of the electricity running through my veins was still alive and has me shook. It was hard to wrap around my brain the fact that the thought of him made me want to drown into the tension between us and vomit under the pressure.

I shook my head then quickly unlocked the door and held it open as Jonathan zoomed past me.

"Aunt Riley!" he cheered.

Riley was on the couch, engrossed in her laptop. Her fingers furiously typed on the keyboards with great determination. By the looks of it, she was putting together the latest additions of the newspaper, and probably re-editing her article on a specific cowboy I don't want to talk about. She dropped everything altogether at the sound of Jonathan's voice and she bounced towards him with open arms.

"Jon!" she squealed excitedly as she trapped him in a rather choking hold and swung him around. "I missed you so much, buddy! My God, you grew so much since I last saw you!"

"Auntie, that was last week," he laughed giddily.

"It's still too long!"

Throwing my keys on the table next to the door, I made my way to the couch. The cushions engulf my small frame, making it more difficult for me when I have to get up later on. The business card fell out of the pocket of my apron and on my lap. I took it in my hands and flipped it between my fingers.

"Are you hungry?" asked Riley. "Do you want anything to eat?"

"That's okay, Auntie," said Jonathan. "Maya took me to eat McDonald's before we got here so I'm full. I even got a cupcake for doing my homework and getting all the right answers!"

"Jon - eat," I said loudly. "You barely ate your chicken nuggets and the cupcake doesn't count as a meal. Do we have any of Mama Arroyo's food from last time?" I asked Riley.

"We have some leftovers," answered Riley. "But I don't think Jon is gonna like Pastelón and cuchifritos."

"It's better than nothing. Go ahead and fresh up, kiddo. I'll get it ready for you in a minute."

"But, Maya," Jonathan whined. "I'm not hungry!"

"Jon - bath - _now_ ," I said firmly.

Jonathan pouted and stuck his tongue out at me before he ran down the hallway, his large backpack swinging in different directions with his movements. I tilted my head back with a groan as I hear the door of my bedroom slam hard and ran my hands over my face.

"Don't slam doors!" I shouted even though I knew he couldn't hear me.

"Rough day?" inquired Riley as she dropped on the couch beside me and lifted my legs onto her lap to undo my shoes. After she slipped them off, I wiggled my toes in satisfaction as she gently massaged them, soothing my sore muscles into tranquility.

"You could say that," I sighed in contentment. "It was busier than usual today. I think this old man tried to get my number at some point."

Riley cringed. "That's disturbing. Why do old men go for younger girls?"

"To feel like a man again," I snorted. "Their balls are so wrinkled up and dry from all their years of rejected sex that all they could produce is powder. The heat of a girl's vagina helps liquefy it back to normal."

"Ew, Maya, that's an image that I didn't need to hear. I'm going to have nightmares tonight, thanks to you."

"Just drink some warm milk and you'll be fine."

I held up the business card above my head, turning it in different angles as I watched the engraved writings glow under the dim lights of our old lamps. Thinking back at the sight of him, every detail of him committed to memory, made my skin tingle in exhilaration and the corners of my mouth involuntarily curled upwards.

"What else happened at work?" asked Riley, peering at me through her lashes. She was still massaging my feet but the pressure was lessened by her curiosity.

"What?" I asked, fumbling with the card.

Riley smirked. "You have _the_ smile on your face."

"As oppose to the millions smiles I've had all my life?"

"Maya. You know what I mean. You don't usually have _that_ smile unless it's someone who caught your eye. I've only ever seen you wear _that_ smile once since we've known each other but I recognize it everywhere." She inched closer to me to hover over me, her hair falling around us like a waterfall. "Now...who is it?"

I question the many abilities Riley possesses. How does she do it? She could read me easily like an open book. I'm beginning to think she has a sixth sense she isn't telling me about. Moments like this made me wish that she never got interested in journalism in the first place because she has a horrible tendency to try to get information out of me without knowing and I wish she could just turn it off like a switch but that would be a fool's dream. No matter how much I want to be able to hide things from her, Riley is always bound to find out. Except -

"Josh came by at the shop today," I said. I wasn't technically lying to her - I was avoiding what she really wants to hear.

I could hear her intake of breath. "What? How? When? Why?"

"He was doing Matthew's a favor and picked up my brother from school."

"What? How? When?"

"Today."

"What? How?"

"Most likely the subway and walked to the shop."

"What?"

"Riley, I think you know what!" I snapped. She dropped backwards from me, blinking at me with surprise, and that instantly made me feel guilty. I very rarely bark at her. "Sorry."

"Are you okay?" she asked instead.

"I'm fine," I sighed. "Just surprised to see him, that's all. I haven't seen him since last year after the breakup and all. Seeing him was just...bizarre."

"Why didn't you call me as soon as he left?" Riley inquired, her concern dripping on her tone.

I pursed my lips. Riley had been one of the few people who knew the real story behind my breakup with her uncle and she had been my guidance back to recovery of a broken heart. She would always be nervous whenever she learns that Josh and I are in the same building, afraid that we would have a round when we come together and to be caught in the middle of it all. I don't blame her for that but she doesn't have to think I'd make her choose between her family and me.

"Riles, nothing bad happened," I reassured her. "He stayed for a cup of coffee, we talked for awhile, and then he left. Nothing big."

"Maya…" Riley looked at me suspiciously. "What else happened?"

"Nothing."

"Maya."

"Riley."

"Tell me. Come on, you know I know that something else happened that you're not telling me. I can see it in your eyes."

I smiled amusingly. "Did you just quote a song?"

"Maya!"

"Okay, okay!" I moaned as I tilted my head back and laid an arm over my closed eyes. "He wants to get back together and kissed me before he left."

"What?" Riley shrieked. "He kissed you - you let him!"

"It was at the corner of my mouth so it doesn't count as a real kiss," I pointed out. "And I didn't initiate it. But...I didn't hate it." I shook my head. "It's been a year since we dated and I still...If he had planted a big smack on me, I think I would have said yes in a heartbeat if he asked me to still be his girlfriend again."

"But he didn't and thinking about it right now, do you want to get back together with him?" Riley frowned. "I mean, you guys were together for a long time."

"Yeah, we were." I slipped my arm off my eyes and placed my hands behind my head as I bit my lip. "I don't know if I want to get back together with him. I mean, yeah, I still have the same feelings for him and all but won't we end up the same way we ended?"

"You don't know that," she said. "Not everything works in the first time but if two people in the relationship see that what they feel for each other won't go away then they will do whatever it takes to make it work a second time around. Yes, you and Josh ended in terms that you don't speak to each other anymore but he obviously still loves you and you seem to still love him just as much so maybe trying it again won't hurt so bad. Remember, he is your first relationship ever and perhaps you were overwhelmed because of...well, your past."

"Which is one of the reasons why I don't think we should get back together," I stated. "Maybe I'll just stay single, grow old with forty cats, get a fat ass, and watch old game shows. That's what my Nana did."

"Maya, you won't do that," Riley said. "You're going to find the love of your life, you're gonna get married, have kids, and grow old together until death do you part."

"Yeah - no," I said sarcastically. "You'll never catch me wearing a wedding dress."

"You can't avoid the inevitable. You have to wear one when you get married."

"Riley, even if I did get married in the future, I will not be caught dead in a wedding dress. You'll probably see me wearing an all-white outfit with my trusty boots."

"Maya Penelope Hunter, you will _not_ wear boots to your wedding!"

"You got no say in it - it's my wedding."

"Peaches!"

"Fine, fine," I chuckled, noticing that she sounded really upset and the pout on her lips was exaggerated. "Let's skip the wedding."

She seemed relieved but there was still concern in her eyes. "What are you going to do about my uncle?"

"I told him I'd let him know when we can talk after graduation. We'll see what I feel about it then. Right now, I'm just too braindead to think about that." I sat upright and held my hand out to her, the business card held between my fingers. "The cowboy gave me his number at the shop."

Riley gasped, her eyes growing into wide saucers, and yanked it out of my hand. "You weren't kidding!"

I pouted. "It hurts me that you think I'll joke about something like this."

"I can't believe it," she breathed out. "The richest, most eminent, and eligible bachelor of New York City just gave you his cell phone number? Do you know how lucky you are?"

"Not unless there is a reward for it," I smirked at her disbelief. "He said to call him before ten and he'll have a room rented for tomorrow morning."

"Yay!" Riley cheered merrily. She jumped on the couch, kicking my legs off her, and then she dramatically dropped herself on the cushions while holding her arms up in that odd position that reminds of the dance for the Village People's YMCA, the smile never leaving her face.

A loud thud was heard coming from beneath our floorboards and I scowled. Great, now Mr. Hopkins is going to come up here and complain at us for making so much noise. I irritatedly stomped my foot on the floor repeatedly before curling up into a ball.

"This is perfect!" she continued. "Now I just have to find someone to take the photos. I don't think Sage is in town - she went to Florida for a protest against the destroying of the trees and polluting the ocean. Oh, she's going to be so upset when she finds out she missed an opportunity to photograph one of the most influential men in America. She's a huge fan of his for the change he's done to prevent war from happening."

"What about our beloved friend, Cheese Souffle?"

"His name is Charlie, Maya," Riley giggled. "And he doesn't really do photography. He's more of a film director. Plus, he's getting ready for his future appointment with Francis Coppola so I don't think he'll want to get distracted for now."

"Not unless you're the one asking him - he'll do anything for you. I bet he'll even kill Bradford for you if you want."

"Why do you always keep insinuating things when it comes to Charlie?" Riley had a deep frown on her face. "I'm not interested in him that way, Maya."

"But he's sure as hell interested in your that way, Honey," I remarked. "If tomorrow was his last day to live, the boy would die happy knowing you even look his way. He's into you."

"Maybe." She paused, twiddling her thumbs in a shy manner. "I don't know. I mean...I'll admit he's gotten a lot...cuter...since middle school. But that doesn't change anything! I'm pretty sure I'm just like any other girl who thinks he's a catch. Is that a crime?"

"No, but you're not like any other girl, Riles." I slapped my knees while rolling my eyes. "I keep telling you this. Ever since Evan, you deluded yourself into thinking all the things Charlie does for you is 'friendly' when he clearly likes you. He's busy with college and work just like us but he still manages to make time to visit you - not us - you - because he's interested. And why wouldn't he? You're adorable, smart, and sweet."

"You're saying that because you're my best friend and you want to build up my self-esteem," she said with a cute smile.

I shook my head with a chuckle. "No, I'm saying it because it's true. You're adorable. Right now, if I go out there and ask all those people if it's true, they would all say the same thing. Especially when you're wearing your "I'm Riley" face right now."

Riley then cupped her face with her red-polished hands and formed a wide, perky smile whilst her eyes twinkled like sparkly stars. "I'm Riley!"

"You did it - I wanna squish your face."

"But, all joking aside," she said, all traces of her bubbly attitude replaced by her inner journalist. "I need to find someone to do the photos, but who am I going to find at the last minute?"

"Hmm...What about Jordan?" I suggested. He is a classmate of mine in photography and we worked from time to time for projects. I will have to admit his perspective is riveting and his stills are always marvelous.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Riley insisted. "Doesn't he go out with Alexis? I heard she can be a little possessive."

"Those two are always on and off. God knows what they are right now."

Riley then looked at me expectantly. "Why can't you do the photoshoot? You're a great photographer, too."

"I want nothing more to do with that Horseback-Riding-Pie-Eating-Ranger-Rick," I said firmly. "Just give them a call."

"Them?"

"First call Jordan for the photoshoot and then call the cowboy."

"Maya, you're the one in a relationship with him."

"Relationship?" I blinked at her. "Sweetheart, I am not in a relationship with that egotistic idiot. I barely know the guy."

"At least you got to meet him - twice as a matter of fact," she said bitterly. "And he seems to like you, too. He is one of the busiest men alive and he takes his time to go in the coffee shop you work in and he gives you his number." Her voice is now ecstatic. "It sounds like he really wants to know you."

"Or you're reading into too much," I retorted. "Riles, you need to stop thinking that every coincidence is a sign that something good is going to happen. A coincidence is just a coincidence."

"There are no coincidences, Maya. A coincidence is just the universe's way of saying hi."

"Right. And I suppose now you're going to tell me that he's my soulmate or something."

"He could be."

"I was kidding!"

"You never know!" Riley then reaches in the pocket of her sweatpants, pulls her phone out, and holds it out to me. "Call him!"

"No!" I push the phone back to her. "That's your article - your business!"

"Peaches, please!" she pleaded.

"Peaches, nothing!" I said. "I don't want anything to do with that cowboy again."

"Please!" She was practically bowing at me now. "You met him two times so you already know how to talk to him. He's expecting a call from you - not me. If you do this, I swear I will buy you anything you want and do whatever you want. Pretty please! This is so important to me."

For the first time ever, I wanted to reach across and slap her pretty smile off her face. I didn't have to do anything - I have nothing to do with this stupid article. My stomach erupts in wildly fluttering butterflies just thinking of hearing his voice again and a knot formed tightly in my very core knowing my name would roll off his tongue like butter. My cheeks grew warm. The effect I am getting at the thought of this cowboy was shocking since the only other man I know who used to - and still does to this day - was Josh.

From a distance, I heard a door creak open and - to my absolute relief and gratitude - later heard Jonathan's voice calling out, "Maya! I can't find my clothes anywhere!"

"Duty calls," I smirk smugly at her as I hopped off the couch and walked away from her. "Can you set up a plate for him? I'd appreciate it!" I added. I got a huff as a response and heard her muttering under her breath.

Reaching in my room, I find my bathed younger brother, wearing only a towel that was much too long for him, and his hair still dripping of water. He was hugging himself to stop his shivering but no avail. I reached for the jacket I have hanging on my doorknob and wrap it around him, rubbing my warmth from my hands into his shoulders.

"Your clothes are where I always put them," I said. I walk over to my closet, pulled it open, and drag out his small Captain America suitcase. Since he lives with the Matthews, I only hold a small portion of his wardrobe in my apartment enough for the weekend. Whatever clothes he wears on the first day would be left here and whichever clothes he wears on his last day would go home with him.

"I couldn't find it," he said quietly.

"It's alright." I playfully mess around with his wet hair, making it more disheveled, and I made my way to the door. "Your food is gonna be ready in a few."

"Maya?" he called out, his voice suddenly small. I turned to him in confusion.

"Yeah, bud?"

"When is dad coming home?"

I frown at his hopefully expression, a pang of guilt hitting me in my chest. He would always ask me this only before it was 'when is daddy coming home' and that honestly worries me. I don't want him to think Shawn less of a father because he is out there looking for our mother and will return home when his leads don't help him reach far only to search for more information about her. I don't want Jonathan to grow up resenting Shawn for trying to bring our family together again.

"We'll call him later and see when," I said with a tight smile. "Actually we'll FaceTime him and we could say goodnight to him."

His eyes diminished of color. "You don't know," he mumbled. "That's okay, sis."

Jonathan turned from me and started to pull his pajamas out of the suitcase. I stared at him, my heart crumbling in despair to see this sweet boy feeling a pain I tried so hard to protect him from, and I tried to keep a brave face on as I heard a couple of sniffles come from him.

"Hey now," I said softly as I approached him and tenderly wrapped my arms around his bare shoulders, embracing him tightly. "Don't cry, little tyke. Dad's coming back soon."

"When?" he whimpered.

"Hey, look at me." I grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him to face me while I kneeled in front of him. "He's coming back."

"But what if he doesn't?"

"Hey, hey, don't say that," I said firmly. "You know that isn't true. He's coming back."

"How do you know?"

"Because dad isn't a leaver - he's a stayer," I smiled, reminiscing those words he first told my mother when they first met. "He only leaves to do some important things and he comes back to be the best dad ever."

"I wish he stayed. Mom didn't."

I frowned. "Mom is...out doing some important things too. It just takes a lot longer than dad does. But I know for a fact that she misses all of us so much and she can't wait to come home." I lowered myself to sit, legs crossed, and held his hands. "Listen to me, Jon - I know you know my story of _my_ father and how he walked out on me and our mom. I know it scares you but you don't have to be. Because Shawn - _our_ father - is nothing like my father and he would never walk away on any of us."

Jonathan sniffled. "How do you know?"

"Well," I smiled fondly at him. "Mom had just me then she had me and dad - dad had mom and me - now mom has you, me and dad and dad has you, me, and mom. That's enough for him to stay for five lifetimes." I brush my thumb under his eye, catching a tear I don't think he noticed. "So don't cry. He's coming back."

"And mom?"

"One day," I said with such force. "She'll be home one day."

Jonathan tied his tiny arms around me and buried his face in the waves of my hair. I kiss his head and stroke his hair, closing my eyes as I took in the comfort of having him here in my arms, of knowing that every day I wake up, I won't be in my old rundown apartment with the police sirens wailing from a distance and a gunshot echoing into the middle of the night, because he is real. He is proof of what is my reality and I intend to keep him safe in the best ways I could.

"I love you," I whispered.

"I love you too, Maya."

"Good - you better," I grinned as we released each other. "Now go and get dressed. Riley has food ready for you."

"Okay!"

He raced over to the suitcase to start getting dressed and I left the room in fluid motion. Returning to the living room, I find Riley pacing around the living room, clutching her phone to her ear, and staring out of the window with a desperate expression. She looked like she was close to crying.

"Jordan, please?" she begged. "It's just this one time!"

I watch for a moment as she stayed quiet, listening to Jordan's voice that was muffled. Once it was silent, she stomped her foot and released a harsh breath.

"I know you only do landscapes but think of it this way - you could expand your horizons," she continued. "You could get paid to do people and places and get twice the fortune!"

"Give me the phone." I cross the room and take the phone from her. "Hey Jordan."

"Hunter?" He sounded fairly surprised.

"Yeah, it's Maya...Listen here, if you do Riley a solid, I can get her to do an extra on you in the newspaper and maybe even cover up the fair you went to weeks ago."

"But, Maya, I only do landscapes!"

"Landscapes, people - two different things, all shot by the same camera. Big whoop. It's true what Riley says. If you do this, you'll be doing more than places and could get paid more. If you're lucky, you might even get signed by a top company and be taken as a serious photographer for America's Next Top Models."

He groaned. "You're brutal."

"So you'll do it?"

"Fine. When and where is this photoshoot gonna take place?"

"Tomorrow morning at the Towers Hotel."

"What?" He was appalled. "Maya, that won't be enough time for me set up! I gotta load the equipment and then get it set up when I get there! Not to mention I gotta get the crew together for this!"

"Well, you better get on with it," I quipped.

"Not gonna happen," he said. "What's so important about this photoshoot anyway?"

"It's for Riley's article with Lucas Friar."

I could hear him lose his breath. "What?"

I smirked. "You heard me."

"Wait up - not _the_ Lucas Friar? Of Friar International Trade Inc?" Jordan goes from disgruntled to awestruck in less than a second. "No way!"

"Yeah, yeah, he's a millionaire and all that."

"How'd you meet him?"

"Had to interview him for the school newspaper. Riley had the flu." I shrug, trying to sound casual. "Anyway, will you do it?"

"Hell yeah, I will!" He was excited now and I could imagine the idiotic grin on his face. "I'll call up the others right now!"

"Good. I'll send you the time later and we'll see you tomorrow." I end the call and toss the phone back to Riley, which she surprisingly caught since she doesn't have really good hand coordination. "It's all sorted out."

"Not yet." Riley had a shy grin while she held up the damned card and I glared at her.

"No way!" I confirmed.

"Please!"

"No!"

"Please!"

"No!"

"Pretty please!"

"How bout no?"

Riley cupped her cheeks and stuck her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout as she said in a meek voice, "Pretty please with cherries on top, Peaches?"

I dropped my head back with a groan. _Not the Riley Face!_

"Fine," I said in aggravation as I snatched the card from her and pointed a finger at her. "But you owe me, baby girl," I added in a low voice.

Grabbing my phone from the couch, I stormed off to the balcony, grumbling.

"Thank you!" she shouted before I slammed the door shut behind me.

I walked over to the lawn chairs we have put out here and sit on one of them as I examine the card between my fingers. The engraved letters and numbers glittered under the moonlight, the sight taunting me, encouraging me. I huffed out a breath then I unlocked my phone to dial in the number and I held it at my ear as I listened to the other end ring continuously. If I'm lucky, he won't answer or he'll block my number. I hope I won't have to keep on calling him because this was enough to send me over the edge.

As the ringing continued, I played out the conversation in my head. I don't even know what to say. At least, I don't know what to say to him nicely. I'm glad I sat down or else I'd be pacing impatiently. By the fourth ring, I was beginning to lose hope in hearing from him again and fall into relief to not have to go through this, when the loop suddenly stopped, followed by a husky and smooth voice answering, making every hair on my body stand proudly tall. My heart died then came back alive with quicker pulse.

"Friar." His tone is clipped and emotionless.

"Mr. Friar? It's Maya...Maya Hunter." I hadn't realized I was talking until I heard my own voice and I didn't recognize it. I sound pathetic. A brief pause passed. I slowed my breathing.

"Miss Hunter. It's a pleasure to hear from you so soon. What could I help you with?" His voice changed drastically; he sounded gleeful yet surprised and I think I felt a sense of warmth from him, too - sensually even. From the corner of my eye, I could see Riley eagerly staring at me through the glass door and I moved to the corner of the balcony where she has no sight of me, not wanting her attention.

"The photoshoot for the article," I said. "Riley agreed and she would like to know the hour most convenient for you."

Another short pause flew by before he spoke again. His voice now serious. He was now speaking business. "Yes, of course. May I ask why Miss Matthews didn't call me for this matter or was she able to convince you to be the one to handle me again?"

"You could say that," I murmured. I couldn't deny the sly smile curling up on my face at his playfulness wavering at the end of his voice. At least he somehow knew that I wasn't all up for this.

"Forgive me for my forwardness, Miss Hunter, but I'm glad to that you called and not Miss Matthews," he said with such ease.

The butterflies went berserk in my stomach. _He's interested in you,_ Riley's voice echoed in my head but I immediately crushed it. This was just him turning on the charm - the same I'm sure he uses on any woman who intrigues him and dazzles them with what they want to hear. I am sure every woman who crossed his path he made them feel special. It was his nature. He is a hunter who looks for prey and pounces at the right moment. I won't be persuaded by him.

"I spoke to our photographer and he's in," I said shortly. "I just need the hour and they'll meet you at the hotel tomorrow."

"Will you be joining them?"

"No. I have family matters to attend to," I said. _Family matters as in I'm so happy I have a little brother to use as an excuse to not get bothered by you._

"That is a shame," His voice dripped in honesty. "I was looking forward to see you again, Miss Hunter. I never got to tell you that your services today was superb. I know where to go to whenever I come to town now."

I can almost conjure up the image of his sly smile through the phone.

"I'll message you the hour." He was abruptly short. "I apologize but I am currently on my way to an important conference meeting. I hope you understand."

"Alright," I replied. I don't really understand - I'm not a CEO of a million dollar corporation with a busy schedule and the pressure of the whole world to keep the peace balanced. I'm just a college student struggling to come up with a piece for a class and being constantly harassed by old perverts because of my waitress uniform. I definitely don't understand.

"Thank you," he said. Another pause came and went before he spoke again. This time, his tone was lighter and pleasant. "I hope to see you again one day. Have a good night, Maya."

"Good night, Lucas," I whispered, the devil in me breaking through. It felt so good to say his name, having a sense that it makes the corners of his mouth quiver into a smile or his lips harden into a displeased frown. Either way, it was a sick pleasure to know I have an effect on him somehow.

I went back inside and shoved my phone in the pocket of my apron. In the kitchen, Jonathan was sitting by the counter, eating the meal Riley generously prepared for him, dressed in his Spiderman pajamas, and chatting animatedly with Riley about the latest episode he watched of Tom and Jerry. I smiled at this. It makes me really happy to see that he was more into the 90's comedy than the pathetically reused ones of this generation.

My phone suddenly vibrates and I quickly slip it out. From the corner of my eye, I could see Riley glance up at my arrival, her obvious eagerness surfacing, as I approached them and sat next to Jonathan, my eyes never leaving the text message that had appeared on my screen.

 _ **212-540-8042:**_ _9:40 AM_

"I got the time," I murmured. "I'll forward it to you." Yet when I look up from the screen, I could see Riley smiling knowingly with a surprisingly devious glint in her eyes. "What?"

"Peaches, you blushing!" she said in awe. "You like him!"

I nearly dropped my phone, briefly frozen in shock at her declaration, before I regain my composure and raised my chin to seem unaffected as I scoffed.

"I'm not blushing," I said indignantly.

"Yes you are," she stated. "You like him - you so like him!"

"No I don't!"

"Ooh, Maya's got a boyfriend!" sang Jonathan with a teasing grin.

"Shut it, you pain in the neck!"

"Maya and her boyfriend sitting in a tree -" both Riley and Jonathan started to sing simultaneously before I let out an aggravated groan and climb off the counter to storm off to my room with a very flushed face as their laughter trailed behind me.

"You guys are dorks!"

It was until after I locked the door and dropped on my bed that I started to replay the conversation in my head. His voice was so husky and velvet, very sensual and seductive. The fact he was adamant about seeing me again the next day made my mind go in a crazy flurry and my stomach twist in all kinds of turns. My heart was also palpitating ferociously at Riley and Jonathan's teasing of my nonexistent relationship with an unattainable man like Lucas Friar.

I jumped slightly when I felt my phone buzz in my hand and when I unlocked it, I saw that it was a message from said man. _Speak of the devil and he doth appear, Hunter_.

 _ **212-540-8042:**_ _I certainly hope to see you accompanying Miss Matthews, Maya. Have a wonderful night._

Instinctively, I bit my lip. And there it is again, his suggestive way of words. I could see that charming grin of his slapped across his face, amused knowing that he could easily crack a small smile from me or leaving my comebacks stuck in my throat, and he is probably sitting through the rest of his conference meeting in gratification that he had the final word.

I pushed myself off the bed and made way to the attached bathroom to freshen up before bed. After I tied my hair back into a loose ponytail, I turned on the faucet and splashed the lukewarm water over my face. As I closed my eyes, feeling the sensation of running water running over my skin, I saw the image of two crystal green eyes staring at me behind my eyelids, and I subconsciously grip on the edges of the sink as my breathing slowed into deep breaths. Then I popped my eyes open and looked at my reflection staring back at me. Only that girl in the mirror looked nothing like me. Pink cheeks and dilated pupils in smitten eyes. This was the ghost of my past twelve-year-old self.

What the hell is happening to me? That damn cowboy can't seem to get out of my head for some reason. He was everywhere. I could be asleep or awake or blinking and he would be there with that patronizing grin and those taunting, beautiful eyes. My provoking thoughts of him consuming my time was frightening and bothersome. I feel like a hypocrite letting my morals get bent over a pompous jerk.

I slammed the faucet shut, left the bathroom, ignoring my phone that drew an unbearable temptation to me to read the message a thousand times, and then went to my closet to pull out my pajamas for the night.

* * *

Jonathan's curfew came around; he would stay in my room for the weekend and I would sleep in the living room couch. I would hide my unmentionables and lock up my other inappropriate items that he should never see so young the day before. We killed the time by watching his favorite TV shows and movies until his head lolled onto my shoulder and released a few light snores. Riley had left to the balcony to talk to Jordan about the details of the photoshoot while I carried Jonathan to my room and tucked him in. It was after I planted a chaste kiss on his forehead that he woke up and reminded me to FaceTime Shawn to say goodnight to him.

Right now, I am snuggled under my purple covers with Jonathan cuddled into my side, his eyes drooping groggily as we waited for our video call to be answered by our father. The physical exhaustion I've been holding back today from work was now beginning to catch up to me and my muscles were sore. My eyes would drop and my head would tilt into the pillows momentarily or the phone would slip from my hands. Jonathan had to be the one to hold it while I fought against the sleep creeping up to me.

After the eleventh ring, I was going to suggest that we call it a night when the connection finally went through and a live feed of our father's face appeared on the screen.

"Hello?" he greeted drowsily.

"Dad!" Jonathan said loudly, his eye lit up in happiness.

"Jon?" Shawn rubbed the grogginess out of his eyes, a tired smile crept onto his face. "Hey son."

"Hi dad - I miss you."

"I miss you too, kiddo. What are you doing up so late?"

I tilted the phone to my direction. "Jon just wanted to say goodnight to you before he went to bed. He misses you alot and wanted to talk to you for a bit."

Jonathan took the phone back. "Dad, when are you coming home?"

"Hmm...probably sooner than I thought. I give it like a week before your sister's graduation."

I raised a brow. "So soon?"

"Yeah, it turns out that everything I needed to look for wasn't exactly here," said Shawn with a disappointed frown and I couldn't help but copy it. "I'm going to stay a little extra longer to make sure I didn't miss anything important. If I did then I'll find it - hopefully."

I nodded in understanding while Jonathan was shaking in excitement. He doesn't know that Shawn and I are speaking code around him. In reality, Shawn is telling me that he wasn't able to find mom with the leads he got.

"I'll let you two catch up," I said softly. "Jon, make sure to put my phone to charge when you're done, okay."

"Okay."

I smoothed his hair back and kissed his head before I climbed off the bed to leave the room. Before I went to the living room, I left the door slightly ajar, a little crack, just to let the light of the room to beam from the hallway into the dark room. I started to do this habit when Jonathan was around five and he had a nightmare of a scary clown coming out of the closet, wanting to eat him. He's probably over that fear by now but I like to be sure.

I went over to the couch, pulled back the covers, and crawled on the pillows. I felt weird wearing pants but I didn't want to traumatize Jonathan by seeing me in my underwear. As I lay there, trapped in a tight cocoon, I stared through the glass of the door to balcony, seeing Riley's silhouette flick by time to time and listening to her muffled voice speak erratically into the phone. My mind was wrapped up in the heart-wrenching news Shawn told me; my mom was nowhere to be found again.

Another attempt to be a whole family had slipped away again. Another door closed. Another piece of my hope crushed.

I had to take a calming breath and clench my jaw to stop myself from quivering into the verge of tears. I had to remember to not grind my teeth. My mother had scolded me a thousand time when I was younger for doing that; apparently my grinding would sand down my teeth to an unnaturally flatten plane. It was a bad habit I try hard to break. It is ironic, too. When I was a little girl, my front teeth would be protruding out, making me seem almost like a beaver, and after a couple of unfortunate months wearing braces, my teeth are now too alike due to my grinding.

But with the stress I've been handling this year. If it weren't for that then I don't think I would have grinded my teeth as much, sanding them down into perfectly aligned planes, and making it look unnatural. From struggling with my projects at school to working double shifts at the shop and to trying to take care of my younger brother as much as I could to my endlessly worrisome about my mother and trying to keep Jonathan distracted from Shawn's absence, a lot of pressure was dropped onto my shoulders. Then with Josh wanting to come back into my life, it added more weight to the pile.

I buried my face in my pillow as I pulled the covers over my head and released a flood of broken sobs. I balled up into a fetus position and my hands flew up to my mouth to silence my cries but they still sounded clear because I couldn't stop my fingers from trembling as I heaved. I wish I could have those two calloused hands of my mother to tenderly wipe away my tears whenever I'd harm myself and caress my hair as a form of comfort.

I remember that one night when I was five and a strong storm had taken over New York; the thunder roared loudly that it shook the apartment and the lightning was so bright I thought the world was on fire. I was under my covers, crying helplessly for it all to go away, and in came my mother flying into my room, peeked under my covers, and she decided to make it a game. She made it seem like we were in Alaska looking for gold and the lightning was the northern lights - that was when I learned about the aurora borealis.

My mother had been working her third double shift of the week but she still had the energy to come to my aid and protect me from my fear. She was petrified as well by the storm but she held a brave structure so I wouldn't be. She spent the night in my room, cradling me in her arms like a newborn, and lightly humming Journey's _Don't Stop Believing_ into my ear to add as a soundtrack to our mythical adventure until I fell unconscious in a dreamless sleep. The next morning I would find her dressed in her old Nighthawk Diner waitress uniform and preparing my breakfast.

That only made me cry harder. I couldn't suppress the tears and whimpers. I just let my heart leak out through the cracks and pour out onto my face.

I think the noises I made had reached Riley because, a minute later, she was bolting through the door with an alarmed expression, and the next moment, she has my head nestled in her chest as she quietly hushed me.

"Shh, Maya, shh," she said softly into my ear. "What's wrong? What's going on?"

"Sh-Sh-Shawn!" I cried. "N-no...mom!"

"Oh, honey."

Riley hovered over me, her hands balancing herself on either side of my head, and carefully squeezed herself between me and the couch. She wrapped an arm around my waist, and slid the other beneath my head as she hugged me tightly from behind. I, out of pure instinct, reach for her hand under my head and entangled our polished fingers together as my tears dripped down to her arm.

We didn't say much - we didn't have to. Riley already knew. She always does. And she understood that all I needed was for her to hold me like this and to quietly hum Journey into my ear until I drifted off into a restless sleep.

* * *

I was rudely woken up in the middle of the night by Jonathan shaking my shoulders. I fluttered my eyes open and see his form towering over me, the moonlight shining through the balcony windows revealing a small portion of his face. I could see his cheek was moist, his lips trembling with his hiccups, and his eyes were glazed over with tears. He had the quilt draped over his shoulders.

"Scary clown?" I guessed, my voice scratchy in sleep.

"He dragged me down a hole and nobody heard me scream," he weeped.

"Remind me to beat the crap out of Matthews for letting you watch _IT_ ," I grumbled.

Lazily, I held up the covers for him to crawl into and I let it fall down on top of us as I wrapped my arm around his torso. He got comfortable using my arm as a pillow and he curved into my embrace while he tried to stop stop his whimpers.

"Don't worry, there's no scary clown here to take you away," I said softly. "I won't let that happen."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Jonathan snuggled deeper into my arms and soon relaxed into a deep slumber. I listened to his slow breathing for a few minutes to make sure that he was truly asleep and when I saw his arm fall over the edge of the couch, I allowed myself to fall into unconsciousness once more.

* * *

In the morning, I wasn't feeling much better. Breakfast was out of the question with me for my uneasy stomach, but when I woke up and went to the kitchen after I got dressed, Riley had already gone and left a note saying she made some breakfast for us that she left in the oven for us. I only ate half of mine before I shoved the rest on Jonathan's plate before he came back from dressing up in the bedroom. I swallowed a granola bar in three bites, chased it down with milk straight from the carton, and then hurried out the door.

Jonathan had been waiting for me in the corridor, chewing on his own granola bar, as he watched the Gonzalez boys playing a traditional circle game in front of their apartment door. He has the strap of his large dufflebag across his torso, stuffed with all the sports equipment he has planned for us to play today. I locked the door then placed the spare key on top of the door frame before I took Jonathan's hand and we walked our way to the staircase.

The landlord was at his desk downstairs. He was in a chipper mood when he greeted us then bidded us a farewell.

Today we were going to Central Park. In honestly, I don't really like the park; too many tourists go there at this time of year and their stereotypical expectations about it tend to annoy me. Jonathan wanted to go there because it is his favorite and I don't argue with him to ruin our weekend together - Riley might be right that I spoil the kid too much. I didn't feel like taking the subway and the walk would be an hour to get there so we opted to taking my car.

Jonathan loved my car but I love it more. I was there when Shawn bought it; he had gone out a dealership to buy a car that was more 'family material' after he learned that mom was pregnant with Jonathan and he was close to owning a minivan when this beauty caught his eye. Of course, mom was not thrilled at the idea of her unborn child being in a car that didn't have any child locks or other protection services but she couldn't deny that she had fallen in love with it - she has an undeniable love for classic cars and that is one of the reasons why Shawn fell for her.

The car wasn't in good shape back then. The rims were bent, the headlights weren't functioning, the doors wouldn't lock, the wipers wouldn't move, and the engine wasn't in good condition. It took months to restore her back into her remarkable glory. The stuff for the baby was the first thing we all bought before we actually began to work on the car; we had spent paycheck after paycheck searching for the parts, watch various YouTube videos on how to fix, read multiple manuals, until finally, we spoke to Brandon about it and he helped us. It was a tortuous road to get her to the way she is now but those precious moments where Shawn and I would joke around or he would teach me the functions of the car were irreplaceable.

That is why this car is so special to me. It holds the times when everything was simple, so easy, so right. From the day it was purchased to the day Jonathan was born up to the days when we took a small trip during my spring break before it was taken away from me.

Once in the car, I started the engine and turned the AC on high. It has been getting a bit warmer these day, no doubt because of summer coming close, and the cool had decreased overnight. I remember waking up with the covers and quilt were bundled up at the corner of the couch, which Jonathan or I had kicked off in our sleep because it was too warm for us.

I drove along with the traffic of New York. There was a car accident between 9th and 7th Avenue, and a sheriff was guiding the flow in a steady yet slow fashion as the paramedics attended the wounded. I was irritated for two reasons. One, I want to know who was the so-called genius that gave the idiot a license. Two, the one thing I hate about this generation is that everybody has to pull out their cellphones to record the whole scene like their lives depended on it and that is holding up the traffic.

Thankfully, I managed to turn onto the 5th Avenue and went along on a smooth drive to the park. Jonathan played with the stereo as I drove, his face brightening up as an Ed Sheeran song came up.

"Do you think one day I'll drive this car?" he asked.

"One day when you're old enough," I paused. "Just not this one."

Jonathan frowned. "Why not?"

"Because this is my car."

"No - it's dad's car!"

"Which he gave me," I smirked proudly.

"How come dad gave you the car?" he demanded. "How come he doesn't give me the car?"

"Because one; I know the rules of the road and I have a license and I need it," I answered easily. "And two; you're only eight. You're not old enough to drive yet, let alone get a permit. When you're older, you can drive."

"Can we get some ice cream today?" he asked; he always changes the subject at the least expected moments.

"It's a bit too early for ice cream, bud. Maybe a little later around lunchtime we could get some," I said.

We reached the park in a couple of minutes and I parked in a surprisingly open space close to the field. I reached for the dufflebag in the backseat as Jonathan practically leapt out of the car, cheering in joy. I locked the door and followed him into the heart of the park, smiling in delight to see him be free with his craziness, chuckling at his shouts, and a little bit embarrassed when he dropped to the ground to roll around the grass, making some parents stare in bewilderment.

I dropped the dufflebag on a vacant bench next to a water fountain and brought out the equipment for baseball - which is really only one baseball and a glove. I bought these from DICK's Sporting Goods but I couldn't afford for the bat and extra glove because I needed to pay for rent. I tossed them to Jonathan, who was barely able to hold his excitement together, and zipped up the bag.

"Alright, kiddo, you ready?" I asked as I rolled my shoulder and cracked my fingers to loosen my muscles. It has been a long time since I played catch.

Jonathan was tossing the ball in the air and catching it in his glove. "You betcha!"

I smiled. "Okay. Now give me your best fastball. Just like dad taught you."

"Okay!"

I watch as Jonathan exhaled deeply, his eyes fixated on me with hidden intentions, before he reared his hand back and threw the ball at me with such velocity. I caught it without a problem, though, I winced a little at the sting in my palm. It felt like fire. I endured it when I see Jonathan laugh gleefully.

"Good job!" I tossed the ball back to him. "Let's try a curveball. Hold your pointer finger out, put your middle finger on the bottom seam, and your thumb on the back seam."

Jonathan complied, double-checking his grip before he prepared himself and threw the ball back at me. My eyes followed the rotating ball as it flew, watching it zoom into an arch towards me, and then caught it in my hand before it collided with my face. The force almost made my wrist snap back. Jonathan wasn't technically strong but for a little kid, he was really good.

"Very good," I praised, impressed, as I flung the ball back to him. "Put a little more snap on your wrist and you'll be golden."

"Okay!"

We continued on with our game of catch. I would tell Jonathan to try different types of pitches and show him by hand on how he should grip the ball. He needed to work more on his curves and his timing but he was exceptional compared to the other kids in the park. He mastered the slider quickly as it made me stoop down a couple of times to catch the ball; I decided to stay crouched down like a catcher. It challenged him more to focus on his arches and his handling.

"Maya, can I ask you something?" he asked after he caught the ball.

"You already did," I said. "But what is it?"

"How come you don't play baseball anymore?"

"Oh!" I caught the ball again and held it in contemplation. My hand was a bit inflated and red-skinned from the continuous assault so the tiny break was much needed.

Although, I was taken aback by his question; during my middle school years, sometime after my mother and Shawn had gotten together, Shawn had encouraged me to try more physical activities outside of school that may help me grow closer to my mother and she suggested for me to try for the local baseball games at Great Lawn. I didn't like it. I had to run too much, the loud shouts from the obnoxious crowd were earsplitting, the crude comments from the player's fathers were getting on my nerves, the umpire having an odd odor made me want to vomit, and the blistering heat of the sun burning down on me gave me a horrible sunburn. I wasn't much of a sports player - I was more of one with the crowds.

Nevertheless, it did help me and my mother get closer to the point we were attached to the hip because our discussions about the games were a great conversation or she would give me a few pointers for when I was up to batch and learned the types of pitch in case they allowed me to play the position. She used to be a member of the Arkansas Dixie Youth Baseball so she knew what she was talking about. Actually she was the only girl in her hometown that tried out for the team and rose up the roster as a star player. I could imagine her joy to see me attempt to play her favorite sport and I give credit to Shawn for his sly plan to get us together.

It wasn't until my senior year that I stopped playing the sport altogether. I told most of my friends, mostly Riley, that I wanted to focus more on my art development and my applications for college if I wanted to study the major I desire but, in reality, I didn't play anymore because that was the time when my mother had gone missing. I continued to play in the local games because it brought elation to my mother and it helped us rebuild our relationship but when Shawn admitted he reported my mother missing, I lost the inspiration to play again.

"I had to focus on school," I lied, keeping my voice from wavering at the end, and tossed the ball back to him. "I had to work, study, and help out dad with stuff. I didn't have time to play baseball."

"So you think I should play ball?"

"I don't see why not," I said, catching the ball again. "I'm sure the same coach is still there."

"Will you be there? And dad?"

"I could try. I think I might still have the old coach's number. I'll call him up and see when you could try out for the team and I'll take you."

A small part of me really wanted to see how much the local team had changed since my last game. With the rise of feminism, most women nowadays are encouraging their daughters or younger siblings to try alternative motives that would allow equality between genders. When I last played, it was mostly presumptuous boys from my school who would come to the field and I'd have to basically threaten him socially to not treat me like some sort of damsel in distress because I'm a girl.

"YAY!" cheered Jonathan.

I laughed as he flung the ball towards me. He was doing a little dance so the coordination of the ball was a little off and it ended up rolling to my feet. His natural bliss of the little things was always a merriment to me; he reminded me so much of Riley in every way. There is always a smile, a laugh, or a twinkle in his eyes that made me soften up towards him. He rarely cries - he usually does when he has a scrap or over a sad scene of a movie. Last night was the first time in a while since I seen him over Shawn.

" _WATCH OUT!_ " a voice shouted from a distance, breaking out of my trance on my little brother, only to gasp in horror.

A frisbee was hurdling towards Jonathan's direction at an impressive momentum and a rottweiler is seen chasing over it. Jonathan noticed this and he cowered into a small ball, flailing his arms over his head as he screamed in terror. I immediately ran up to him and tackled him out of the way just as the dog dived for the frisbee, miraculously catching it in the air. I had maneuvered us so we could land on my back with a thud and cushioned Jonathan in my arms.

"You okay?" I grunted.

Jonathan nodded with an uneasy smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

I helped us both stand up and I looked over at the dog as it - or he, now that I saw his backside - walked gaily back to the owner, who was crouched down with his hand stretched out.

"Hey!" I yelled, my face red in rage, as the dog handed the frisbee to the owner. "Watch where you're throwing that thing next time! That mongrel of yours almost knocked over my little brother!"

The owner lifted their head up and all of my anger disappeared once I saw their face. It was a man. Not just any man, but a familiar one who I've had the luck and displeasure to meet the previous day.

"Miss Hunter," he greeted formerly, that idiotic grin slapped on his face.

"Mr. Babineaux," I gasped.

It indeed was Zay Babineaux, the flirtatious best friend and CFO of the enigmatic Lucas Friar. He was dressed in a hoodie and baggy shorts. He straightened up and strided towards me in a graceful fashion with his dog loyally on his side. I instinctively pulled Jonathan behind me, warily staring at the dog who has drool dripping from his mouth.

"Surprised to see you here," I said. "I thought you'd be at some meeting or something you businessmen do."

"It's my first day off of the month," he answered. "I'm surprised to see you here as well. I was actually planning to head over to your shop for another cup of coffee. The one you made yesterday was delicious."

"It's my job," I stated.

"Sorry for bugging you," he said with a sheepish grin, holding up the frisbee. "I tried not to throw it too hard but Buck over here was getting antsy. He turns into an old grouch when he doesn't get the exercise he wants." He patted his pet's head affectionately. "Ain't that right, boy?"

The dog's response was a pleased bark and leaning into Zay's palm.

Jonathan peeked around from behind me. "Does he bite?"

"Nah, he doesn't bite," Zay chuckled. "He's a good boy. As big and intimidating he looks, he's actually a softy on the inside. Go on - pet him."

Jonathan was hesitant, glancing between me and the dog, before he took a tentative step towards the pet, his hand held out. It shook violently. And when the dog stood up, Jonathan let out a small yelp and hid behind me again.

"He won't bite," reassured Zay.

"Dogs aren't particularly Jon's favorite animal," I said. "He is more of a cat person. We had one, Fat Louie, but we took him to a farm when he got sick."

Zay nodded in understanding. I'm pretty sure anyone knew that cover-up story.

"Well, he doesn't have to worry about Buck," he spoke. "He's more of a protector rather than an attacker, mostly Lucas and I. So if it makes him feel any better, since he's your brother and you know Lucas, any friend of his is a friend of mine and that's an okay on Buck's book."

"Who says we're friends?" I questioned. I didn't mean to sound impolite to him but his infamous friend makes my lips loose.

Zay looked stupefied. "I just assumed you two are friends since he won't seem to shut up about you. Actually I thought you'd be at the photoshoot today - he told me you might come."

My face heated up. He talks about me? I licked my lips and crossed my arms, almost as if I'm trying to hide away from this discovery.

"My weekend is of me and my brother," I replied. "I wasn't going to cancel my plans to watch your friend get photographed."

"That's a shame," he murmured. "He was looking forward to seeing you."

 _So I've been told._ I shrugged. "I understand but I rather spend time with my brother. I only talked to your friend to help out Riley with her article. It was important to her so I did it. I don't think I have anything to do with the photoshoot."

"Your way of helping is really dedicated then," he grinned. "Guess you're more than a blonde beauty, arentcha?"

"I guess."

Behind me, Jonathan tugged on the tail of my shirt and I glanced down at him. "Maya, can we go back to playing now? I wanna play!"

"Okay," I laughed lightly while ruffling his hair.

Then Buck nudged his leg with his nose and stared up at him with expectant eyes.

"Alright, alright. Sheesh, you're bossy." He turned to me. "If you do change your mind, after I'm done with here, I'm going to meet up with Lucas back at the hotel. Since your friends are there, you could catch up with them too."

"I'll take that under consideration. Have a good day, Mr. Babineaux."

"You too. And in the future, just call me Zay. Mr. Babineaux makes me sound too old."

"Alright."

I grabbed Jonathan's hand and dragged him with me, briskly making our way back to the bench where our dufflebag is. I slumped down on the bench while Jonathan went to the water fountain, claiming to be thirsty after the game, and I tilt my head back as I let out a deep sigh, letting out all of the suddenly pent up feelings I've kept bottled up doing that conversation. I couldn't identify what they were. Elation? Irritation? Bliss? Confusion? I am certainly confused now.

Apparently, Lucas Friar talks about me? What is it about me does he talk about? Was he making fun of the way I interviewed him? Did he find me rude? Inappropriate? Or was he really interested in me?

I shook my head. _Get that out of your head, Hunter! Don't be stupid!_

Jonathan came back and sat down next to me, looking at me with an unreadable expression. I arched a brow at him.

"Take a picture, kid," I said. "It'll last longer."

"Is Lucas your boyfriend?"

I nearly choked on my own saliva. "Say what now?"

"Is this Lucas guy your boyfriend?"

"No! What makes you say that?"

"Your face is red," he pointed out. "And that Lucas guy talks about you. Isn't that what boyfriends do?"

"And who told you that?"

"Riley. She told me that boyfriends are supposed to make their girlfriends feel special, like a princess. Is that true?"

I smiled lightly at him. "Yes. That's what they're suppose to do. But Lucas isn't my boyfriend, bud. He's just a guy who has a crush on me." _Or a weird obsession._

"Is he not good enough for you?" he questioned.

"I don't know…" I trailed off. I never really bothered to wonder if a man is good enough for me. Last time I did was with Josh and I still ended my relationship with him even though he was nothing but good to me. I don't know what _'good enough'_ is for me. I don't have high standards in men except maybe - I shook my head. _I am NOT going there_.

Jonathan cocked his head to the side and looked at me curiously. "You wanna go see him?"

"No," I said despite the inner voice in my head saying, _yes_ , and I wish I could slap that idiotic part of me. "I'd rather pack up all this stuff and go get some ice cream with you."

"I wanna go see him." Jonathan hopped off the bench and started to pack up the baseball equipment. His declaration baffled me.

"You don't want ice cream?"

"Yes. But I wanna see this Lucas guy."

"Why?"

Jonathan turned to me with a surprising serious expression that I rarely see on him and his lips were pursed tightly. Then he said in a small voice, "I don't want you to get hurt."

My heartstrings were tugged violently as I hear the concern in his tone and the disturbing gleam in his wonderful eyes. My period of heartache after my breakup with Josh had affected Jonathan greatly through my tears and depressing moods. He had tried to cheer me up by making up silly dance moves, telling me good news of his achievements, setting up comedy movies nights, showing me funny virals videos, and even tried to convince me to let him console to me about the breakup but I'd lash out of him in blind anger and ignorance. It made him cry and that made me cry. We recoiled shortly and I fell into his routine of healing my heart until I didn't think of Josh anymore.

"And the ice cream?"

"Later. It's too early for ice cream anyway."

I smiled in bewilderment. For an eight year old, he has an impressive mindset.

"Alright then." I rose and stretch my arms over my head. "Let's go and meet up with Zay."

Jonathan nodded then held out his hand to me. I took it tightly in mine and strapped the dufflebag over my shoulder before we trekked our way to the same direction we last saw Zay Babineaux take off.

* * *

The Towers Hotel is not deep in the heart of Greenwich Village. It is a splendid red stone architecture that stood taller than the other buildings in sight, standing high in its original elegance of structure and carvings. Its window glass designs glowed its marvelous colors under the golden lights inside. Not many people stayed in it unless it is the rich society members escaping from their territorial wives with their not-so-secretive mistress, a pair of aroused teenagers trying to shag like desperate bunnies in heat, or it is crowded in noisy tourists. The summertime was the worst because of them.

I've only been in this location once; I was helping Topanga help set up a reservation for Shawn and my mom for their wedding night. They went to Fiji on their honeymoon but their flight wasn't until the morning after. I barely remember how this place looked inside yet I personally thought the place was best for the photoshoot. I could only imagine the sorts of shots Riley is getting in this polished place. And I wouldn't lie that a small - a very small, tiny, miniscule - part of me was curious to see how those pictures of Lucas Friar turned out.

I was traveling behind Zay's Mercedes-Benz with Jonathan, yet again, playing with the radio, twinkling with it until he found a Clean Bandit song playing. I was anxious as we trailed behind Zay into a valet parking lot, staring at the classically dressed employees patiently waiting and watching my eyes with lustful eyes, which made me smirk. I watched as Zay spoke to one of them through the window for a moment before he planted a huge wade of cash in the young man's cash and then stepped out of the vehicle. We followed him after he waved at us but I was skeptical about handing my keys to them.

"They're not going to rob your car or anything," said Zay, chuckling merrily at my doubtful face. "I made sure they have it parked in my usual space and use the spare one for yours."

"Can't I just park my own car?" I insisted. I didn't want to let go of my baby to some kid.

"Then they wouldn't be doing their job," Zay pointed out. "They get paid to do this, otherwise they'd just be standing here like a bunch of statues. Besides, we can't hold them up any longer." He pointed behind me.

I looked over where he was directing and I could see a line was beginning to form directly behind me. I could feel the tension rising from the other drivers - as if I cared. I sighed heavily before I reluctantly dropped my keys in the boy's hand. I then reached out to grab on his collar and yanked him towards me, glaring madly into his fearful eyes. I could feel him trembling under my grasp.

"One scratch on this car and that will be the end of your pathetic, undeveloped life," I growled severely. "Got that?"

The young boy gulped loudly enough for me to hear and nodded timidly. "Y-yes, ma'am!"

"Good boy." I smirked as I released him. He ducked his head, muttering a prayer under his breath, as he climbed inside my car and cautiously closed the door. I kept my eye on him as he slowly drove my baby down the line until he disappeared among the row of cars. I broke my gaze at the feel of Zay's hand clamping on my shoulder.

"If he does end up damaging the car in some way, just let me know and I'll pay for the repairment," he said. "It was my idea to go through valet parking."

"I don't want your money," I shook my head. "You don't get it - that car is a classic, total vintage. I want every part of it to stay original."

"Maya is a car freak," added Jonathan. "He got it from our dad."

"I prefer the term car enthusiast."

"I have a love for cars as well so I get what you're trying to tell me," said Zay. "And I'm sure it'll stay that way after we come back."

Zay nodded his head to the main door as he tugged on Buck's leash and led him towards the entrance. I huffed obnoxiously, rolling my eyes, then grabbed Jonathan's and trailed after him with unwillingness.

"He can have a dog in here?" Jonathan whispered to me, warily staring at Buck.

"He's rich - I bet he bribed the manager to let him bring the dog," I mumbled softly back to him as one of the doormen held the door open for us and ushered us into the building. I halted in a sudden stop as I took in the scenery before me.

 _Holy fuck!_

This is definitely nothing like I thought it would be. I don't remember any of this. Immediately at the entrance are small steps that lead down to the main lobby where I could see suave couches in the center of the waiting area furry carpet that contrasted against the rest of the polished floor. On the other end was another staircase that led to a large door. There are two pillars held together by steel but was made out into fish tanks, holding exotic fishes I've never seen before. One the walls nearests them were the elevators. There are two receptionist desks made out of smooth marble, one attended by a man who could be in his late thirties. But what really got to me were the murals in the ceiling and behind the desks.

The chandelier was captivating decor but what has me enchanted was the fascinating piece of artwork I've longed to see in person and not in the art books I've had since middle school. It was the exact replica of the Sistine Chapel ceiling painting by Michelangelo. The perfectly blended colors, the excellent added details - it was breathtaking. And then the walls behind the desks. Two more original pieces of my favorite artists - one is The Last Judgement and the other is The Entombment.

Three gorgeous paintings, all made in the voice of a man who held a unique eyes of the world and wasn't afraid to speak about his mind through a paintbrush. I could feel my heart purr in pleasure.

Jonathan tugged on my hand. "Maya, c'mon!"

I broke away from my trance and allowed Jonathan to drag me down the steps to where Zay was waiting for us with Buck. He looks to be holding back a smile.

"What?" I demanded.

"Lucas told me that you were an art lover," he said casually. "Can't say I'm surprised by your reaction. You look like you were having an orgasm."

I immediately clamped my hands on my little brother's ears despite his protests and glared at him. "Dude!"

Zay grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I tend to slip my tongue a lot."

"Next time you say some innuendo around him again, I'll rip your tongue out," I warned. I pulled my hands back from Jonathan's ears.

A frightful expression fell on Zay's face. Finally. A normal reaction from him. I was beginning to think he was unbreakable like his cowboy friend.

"Anyway, I have to take Buck back to the room and feed him," he said carefully. "The photoshoot is behind those days over there. There's a man there, Joey, standing guard on the other side. Just tell him you're friends with the photographer or the journalist and I'm sure he'll let you in."

"Okay."

Zay guided Buck towards the elevators after he gave me an apprehensive smile. Jonathan and I went up the second set of stairs to the colossal doors. Now that we're closer to it, I could see flashes of light come off every now and then. When I pushed the door open, I was immediately blinded from the many camera flashes. I could see Riley standing by Jordan, intently analyzing the scene and telling Jordan to try in different angles.

Next to the door was a man dressed in a sharp suit with his arms behind his back. He stood tall, mostly a foot above me. He has jet black hair slicked back, held back together by a gel that is disturbingly glistening. He sports a permanent scowl. I didn't think he saw me because he was busy staring ahead but he surprised me when he spoke.

"You have any business here?" he interrogated.

"I'm gonna take a wild guess and say you're Joey," I said.

"You have an appointment or something?" he asked again.

"The journalist is my best friend and the photographer is my classmate."

"Wait here."

Joey marched forward to where the others were standing, his shoulders squared up and stance intimidating. Still, I find it to be hilarious rather than aggressive.

 _Yeah, like I'm gonna wait._ I was about to step forward, except, I remained stuck on the spot after another light of the camera flashed me sightless and when I blinked my vision back, my eyes settled on the well-structured Greek statue gracing each photo being taken.

 _Son. Of. A. Bitch!_

Lucas Friar was sitting on a brown chantelle chair between two glamorous dogs. One was a siberian husky who sat upright like a guardian meanwhile the fluffy akita laid at Lucas' feet like a luxurious model. My eyes stayed on this rare human being. He was wearing a midnight blue shirt, collar undone, and a pair of dark slacks that matched his shiny shoes. His hair looked furry, tempting me to bury my fingers in his luscious tresses. His only accessory was a square stainless gold ring with a black diamond.

He was staring intensely into the camera lenses, unfazed by the constant flashes. My mouth grew dry in astonishment and I struggled to fight against the tingles that were crawling throughout my body like ants. His gaze never swayed as Jordan continued to snap his camera or as Joey approached Riley to quietly talk to her. Riley glanced over at me with a wide grin, and then she whispered quickly to Jordan before she skipped over to me and Jonathan.

"Maya...I never knew species like him could exist but I'm wrong," she gushed as she placed her hands over her heart. "And he's so polite and funny. He is the most cordial person I've ever met. He's like a prince!"

I looked at her in disbelief. "You're kidding me, right? Please say you joking."

"I'm not!"

Jonathan tugged on my arm and pointed his finger. "That's him?"

"Yeah."

"You know, Maya, I thought this session would have gone by a lot quicker if he was a monster like the way you described him," Riley continued. "But he's really a really nice guy than what the media make him seem like. He was so nice to some of the workers here too - giving them tips and hoping they would have a good day. Paparazzi was even here earlier trying to get a picture of him when we met up with them but he wasn't rude with them like some celebrities usually are - he just smiled and waved at them."

"Honey, you always try to look for the good in people," I said. "You need to understand that he has to keep up an image. It's basic rules of being a celebrity."

"But nobody can be that good of an actor," Riley protested. That was when I noticed the pink patches on her cheeks.

"Please tell me you don't have a crush on him," I groaned. I tried to swallow the bile that was threatening to rise. I did not want to see oatmeal in a different color.

Riley smiled meekly. "Only a little."

"No assholes allowed in our household," I said bluntly. "You dare bring him to our home, I'll take you off the lease."

"Ooh, you said a bad word!" Jonathan held up his free hand with a proud smile. "Five dollars for the swear jar!"

I grumbled under my breath as I reached in the pocket of my leather jacket and slammed a five-dollar bill in his tiny palm. Every time I swear, I have to give him money as if it was a lesson for me to learn how to speak properly. Topanga had convinced him to do that the first time she heard me swear and lately it has been draining my wallet dry.

"You're buying your own ice cream," I said.

"How come you guys are here?" inquired Riley. "Not that I don't mind that you're here - I am so happy that you're here because I feel like I'm about to combust from standing in the same room as him - he's terribly handsome it's scary - but you were dead set on not coming here. You said so yourself."

"This munchkin wanted to meet the spawn of the devil," I explained. "We met up with Zay at the park after his horse of a dog nearly trampled Jon to death. He suggested we come here and I wanted to just hang around with Jon all day but he wanted to come meet the cowboy."

"How come?"

"Ask him."

Except, Riley couldn't ask him because Jonathan was no longer beside me. I was going to freak out for a second but Riley had pointed out that he was walking over to Jordan, watching the photoshoot with impassive interest, and my heart rate immediately calmed down.

"That kid is going to give me a heart attack one day," I sighed.

"You love him," Riley smiled cheekily.

"I'm having second thoughts about that," I said sardonically. "If he keeps on doing this, my love for him with be the death of me. Literally."

We walked over to Jordan, who was to fixated in his work, and we didn't bother to pull him out of his inspiration bubble. Once he was caught in the zone, there is no way of getting him out until he was done. I discreetly locked Jonathan in a headlock and rubbed my knuckles against the top of his head, laughing gladly at his whiny protests and attempts to slip out of my grasp. Riley quickly hushed us.

So we were forced to awkwardly stand there as Jordan snaps away and telling Antoine to arrange the lightening flattering enough for the shot he's visioned, momentarily blinding Lucas. He would tell the cowboy to move in a certain angle, where to put his hand, what kind of face he is looking for, and how to sit on the chair. Jordan would remove the camera from the tripod to take the pictures in certain angles from below or to stand on a box to take hawk-eye shots, while Lucas sat patiently.

"Let's try a couple of standing shots, Mr. Friar," suggested Jordan.

Lucas stands without question, and Antoine was quick to remove the chair from the set without disturbing the glorious dogs. He then rearranged the lightening less bright. Soon the room lit up with the flashes of Jordan's Canon shuttering away.

If it was humanly possible, seeing him upright with his hands stuffed in his pockets and being graced by those two beautiful dogs, made him look more desirable. I felt myself drooling over him.

"Alright," said Jordan. "How about we try a couple with a smile?"

Lucas did not seem up for the task - in fact he didn't look like he has anymore energy to do this photoshoot anymore - but then his gaze flickered beyond Jordan's head and caught sight of me. My cheeks flushed as his eyes met mines. Even from where I stood, I could still see how green his eyes are, the depths of how far his fervor goes, and for a second, I felt I was being undressed by his eyes. Those were not normal eyes he has for me - those were sex eyes. And to make matters worse, he sent a crooked smile my way before he focused on the lenses as Jordan took more pictures of him.

I darted my gaze down to my shoes and blushed a deeper shade of pink, nearly red. My skin felt warm, too hot for me to be wearing my jacket. Something inside me was coiling up, squirming deep in the depths of my belly, and caused of wave of tingles wash over my body. I dared myself to look up at him again.

He was now leaning against the wall, one foot propped on it. The dogs were now standing guard beside him, their eyes smiling at the camera. He was still smiling in Jordan's direction but his eyes were settled on gazing behind him, concentrated directly at me. This time I couldn't look away from him. I was captivated in his striking green eyes and dazzling smile that I wanted nothing more than to push him up against that wall with my own body.

I shook my head. _Where the fuck did that come from?"_

"I think we have enough," announced Jordan after ten minutes.

"Let me see," said Riley.

Riley walked up to Jordan and the both of them reviewed the thousand photos as I stayed behind with Jonathan. Lucas had crouched down to the dogs, his back turned towards me, and was petting them affectionately as they leaned into his touch or licked his palm. For some unexplainable reason, I couldn't break my gaze away from him; the way the corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile, how his cheeks lift, the fullness of his lips, and the slight stubble along his jawline. Everything about him literally screamed ' _Daddy'_ and I'm sure the girls he brings home probably agree with him too.

I think he knew he was being watched because he peered over his shoulder and smirked at me. This time, I didn't break our stare. I don't want him to think he got me when he clearly hasn't. I think.

"These are perfect!" exclaimed Riley, the sound breaking through our gazes. "Mr. Friar, which do you recommend best?"

"Feel free to use whichever you find best suited for your article, Miss Matthews," said Lucas, his eyes never leaving me. "I am looking forward to ready a copy of your article." He steps closer to me. "Miss Hunter, could I borrow you for a second?" he seems a little hopeful. "I would like to talk to you."

I peered at the two dogs then at my curious younger brother before I looked at him. "As nice as that sounds, Ranger Rick, I have to say no." I wrapped an arm around Jonathan's and held him close. "I have a lot of plans with my little brother for the day. I promised him we'd get ice cream after this."

Lucas turned to Jonathan then crouched down to his height, a crooked smile painted on his face. It held a sense of warmth, a welcoming kind that actually makes him look approachable. I don't know how he does that. One minute he looks like an intimidating riddle that would repel all women from him yet be secretly attracted to and later he would hold a appealing vibe that would drive a woman insane to be next to him. I don't think I was immune to this trait of his.

"Hey there, little guy," he said softly. "What's your name?"

"Jonathan."

"Jonathan - that's a cool name."

"My dad named me after his old teacher. He's a superintendent of the New York Board of Education now. I don't know what that is but it sounds pretty cool."

Lucas chuckled. "I think I know who you're talking about. I've met Superintendent Turner a couple of times in my life - he's a great man. You're lucky to be named after him and your father is lucky to be taught by him."

"Do you know my dad?" asked Jonathan.

"Unfortunately I don't but you never know what time will tell." Lucas briefly glanced up at me. "Would you mind if I talked to your sister for a moment? I promise I won't talk long."

Jonathan was uncertain. I stared at him expectantly, hoping that he would somehow hear my mind that was desperately shouting; _Say no! Say no! Say no!_

"We were suppose to go get ice cream," Jonathan said shyly.

 _Yes!_

"It would only take a minute or two," said Lucas. He reached inside his pocket, pulled out a wallet, and took out two hundred-dollar bills. "Here - take this. There is a great ice cream shop nearby here called Amorino. Just tell them to give you the Gelato Supreme and that it's all from me. You could even add on any toppings you want."

 _No!_

Jonathan was stunned. "But...but...They won't believe me!"

"Mr. Ricciardella!" Lucas called suddenly while standing up.

Joey, who had returned to his spot by the door after he talked to Riley, strides over our way with his arms behind his back and held a stone expression. I could not tell what he could be thinking.

"He could go with you," continued Lucas. "He's my driver as well as my trusted bodyguard. He holds my information so he could tell them anything if they question you."

"Mr. Friar?" asked Joey when he reached Lucas' side.

"Mr. Ricciardella, could you drive Miss Hunter's brother to Amorino? And make sure they know it's all from me so they could give him the special kind."

"Certainly, sir," replied Joey.

"Then it's settled." Lucas smiled at me like he won the lottery. "Now may I borrow your time, Miss Hunter?"

I frowned. "No, Mr. Friar...Look, I promised Jon I'd spend the weekend with him and that we go get ice cream together. Plus, I don't know anything about your bodyguard no matter how much you trust him. I'm not going to let Jon get in a car with some stranger." I share a brief look at Joey, who remains unaffected by my words. "Maybe next time."

"I see."

Lucas suddenly turned away from me and started to walk to where Riley is having a deep discussion with Jordan and Antoine. I watched in horror as he kindly meddled into their conversation with a polite smile, which I could see made Riley blush deeply and Jordan scowled, displeased. My heart pounded violently as the minutes passed and then it stopped altogether when I saw them nod almost too excitedly with bright eyes.

 _You gotta be fucking kidding me!_ I groaned as Lucas started to head back towards me with a proud face. _Fuck. My. Life._

"Miss Matthews agreed to go along with your brother," he said. "Even the photographer and his friend agreed to tag along."

I bit back the growl threatening to rumble from the back of my throat. Without a word, I stomped over to Riley, ignoring the incredulous look I saw fall on Lucas' face, and I turned her to me by the shoulder.

"Riles!" I hissed.

"Yes?" She tried to look all innocent.

"Why did you say yes?" I demanded. "He's trying to get me alone and I don't want to talk to him. You know I'm trying to hang out with Jon."

"Maya, he definitely likes you," she said with such confidence. Jordan nodded in agreement. "He's trying really hard to get close to you," she added. I hold up my hand to stop her right there and she quickly shut her mouth.

"I don't want anything to do with that Huckleberry, you know that. I said it so many times that I'm through with him."

"I know you did."

"So why agree with him?"

"Because he likes you! And you like him!"

"He doesn't like me," I said firmly. "You have got to stop making assumptions like that. Not every little thing he does means he's interested in me or the other way around."

"Why can't it be true?" she inquired.

"Because it isn't!"

Riley's lips curl downward in disapproval. Quiet Riley - I savor the little moment I have with her. Swiftly, she grabs me by the arm and drags me out of the huge room into the main lobby, down to the center floor of it all.

"If it isn't true then why don't you tell him you don't want to talk to him anymore?" she asked.

"I did - he won't give up. He's like those stupid moths when they see light."

"Maya, he likes you," she said matter-of-factly. "And you like him."

"No he doesn't," I protested. "And I don't."

"Peaches," she sighed. "You need to stop thinking like this. Why won't you let yourself deserve something?"

"Because -"

"Because nothing," she interrupted. She placed her hands on my shoulders and stared directly into my eyes. "Maya, you can't let your past stop you from growing a future. I don't know if you noticed but you've been going back to the way you were when it comes to Josh."

I heard my own intake of breath. I couldn't believe she actually went there.

"I hate to say it but it's true," she continued. "You've been so scared to get close to another guy ever since you broke things off with Josh. I thought, at first, it was because you didn't want to get hurt again but I'm noticing the way you've been acting - you're using excuses to not get close to him and you're throwing nicknames at him to insult him when he's been nothing but nice to you."

"I never insulted Josh and he was always nice to me," I pointed out.

"You used to call him Boing, Maya," she replied.

"That's not an insult."

"It's the principle of it, Maya!" Riley wears a tired look, rubbing her temples. "Can you at least try?"

"Why are you so adamant about this?" I frowned.

"I just don't want you to miss an opportunity with a great guy," she answered with a sigh. "I want to grow emotionally. I don't want you to stay like this forever."

I stared at her for a minute, taking in the words she just said to me. Perhaps she was right. Maybe I am being ridiculous about this whole thing because of what happened between me and Josh. Maybe I am letting my past get to me. But I'm not getting my hopes up. For all I know, this could end up badly as well and I could be even more emotionally scarred than I am now.

"Fine," I murmured. Her eyes sparkled. "But I'll just do coffee. If I find out he has some funny business going on, I'm cutting it short. Got it?"

"Deal."

We share a hug before we made our way back into the rented room with our arms linked. I instantly spotted Jonathan and my eyes nearly popped out in shock; he was on the ground, rolling around with the model dogs, laughing in enjoyment, as they playfully licked his face and tugged his sleeves. Lucas Friar stood by them, watching, entertained, with a bemused smile, and laughing somewhat.

I instantly noticed the change in him; he had gotten out of his outfit while Riley and I talked outside. Instead of the fancy suit, he was dressed in a red baseball shirt with long black sleeves, a pair of washed out jeans, and red converse. He doesn't look like a millionaire from the newspaper or magazine covers. There were no signs of the flawless model I had witnessed too long ago with the deep eyes and the beautiful smile.

"I thought Jon was scared of dogs?" asked Riley.

"He is," I said in awe. "Or he was."

Riley gave me a knowing smile then kissed my cheek before she skipped over to Jordan and Antoine. I inhale deeply through my teeth as I walked over to him.

"Why are these dogs attacking my brother?"

Lucas snickered. "I promise they won't hurt him. They're my dogs." Go figure a pair of flawless creature would belong to an impeccable man. "Have you made a decision?"

I licked my lips. "Only if I drive us to the nearest coffee shop...And if you promise nothing bad happens to my brother."

"You have my word."

How is he able to speak so easily? Is he always this agreeable?

"Alright."

I reach down to pull Jonathon up from the whimsical dogs and lowered to his height. He was still tittering, his face flush from his endless laughter. I couldn't stop myself from smiling at this sight.

"Hey dork, I'm gonna have to go and talk really quick with Mr. Friar," I said. "Riley and the others are going to get ice cream with you. I'll meet up with you later. Stay close to Riley the entire time until I get there." I whispered the last part quietly for him to see.

Jonathan frowned. "What are you gonna do?" he asked.

"I have to talk something important with Mr. Friar and I'll meet you later at the ice cream shop," I said. "I promise."

Jonathan pouted and held up his pinkie finger. I smiled and raised my hand to wrap my pinkie around his. I kissed my knuckle as well as he did, sealing the deal, then I leaned up to kiss his forehead and brushed back his hair from his eyes.

"Now go over to Riley," I said.

"Okay. See you later, sis."

"See you later, bud."

Jonathan then ran over to Riley and the others. A strange pull in my gut grew stronger the farther he went from me. It was the same one I felt when I dropped him off on his first day of school with mom and Shawn. I straightened up and turned to Lucas, who held an elated gleam in his rich green eyes and a charming smile. I took a lot of willpower from me to not gawk at his glamor. Was this guy fucking sparkling?

"So," I started. "Coffee?"

Lucas nodded and stepped aside, gesturing a hand to the door. I stepped forward without a word, with him following closely beside me. He held the door for me like a gentlemen and I moved forward, trying very hard to not spare a glance at him. As we made our way towards the exit, I could feel my knees shaking, worrying me that I might end up buckling to my face, my stomach was alive with wild butterflies, and my heart was stuck thumping rapidly in my throat in an uneven beat.

I don't know if it was because of the close proximity between us. An electrical current was surging between us, causing a powerful force that makes my skin crawl, and I wonder if he felt it too. I know I did - I thought I was going to faint.

We walked together to the other side of the exit, the fresh air - well, as fresh as it can be in the polluted nature of New York - made it possible for me to breathe better. One of the valet noticed us and he instantly tensed up once he saw me; he quickly went behind the desk to get my keys and raced down the direction where he had once sent my car. The other was going to do the same but Lucas held up his hand, shaking his head.

"No need," he said. "Mr. Ricciardella will come by later to drive other people under my request. I will be going with Miss Hunter."

The valet nodded and stepped back to his usual spot. Lucas turned to me. I stared at him to not seem soft. Secretly, I was fascinated by his unblemished features.

"How long have you known Miss Matthews?" he asked. _What a shocker - an easy question for starters._

"Since I was five. She and I have been best friends ever since."

"How did you two meet?"

"It's kind of a funny story."

He didn't have enough time to ask more question; the valet returned with my car and he stopped abruptly in front of us, causing the rubber of the tires to squeal, making me cringe.

"Hey!" I hollered as the young man climbed out of my car and I marched towards him. "Watch the tires!"

"S-sorry, ma'am!"

I rolled my eyes. This kid isn't even worth my time. I promptly slide into my car the same time Lucas sit in the passenger's seat and I started to inspect the inside of my car for any scratches or dents by the dashboard after I closed the door. Lucas looks at me, interested, as I open the glove compartment, my collection of CD's spewing out by my haste, and I cursed under my breath.

"Are you looking for something?" he asked.

"Just checking," I muttered as I collected the cases from the floor and placed them back in the compartment.

"I could call him back if there's something out of place."

"Believe me, if something is out of place, I'll find it."

A couple of more minutes later, I was satisfied. Everything was the same. The dufflebag was still in the backseat, all the sports equipment still inside. The leather of the seat wasn't torn or stretched in any spot. Neither of my albums were missing from the compartment. There were no damages found.

I shift the gear in drive and start to peel out of the valet parking lot.

Since it was Saturday, the traffic wasn't as horrible in the noon like it was in the morning. Most people are either taking advantage of their day off sleeping at home, others are already stuck in office hours, and some are enjoying their plans with their friends or family. Most New Yorkers take the subway - probably too lazy to actually get a license or prefer to walk - unless it is a distance too great for them to travel to.

I like these days - I could be alone in my car and have a smooth drive. I like taking the subway too but my height makes it difficult to enjoy the ride. I would get cramped up if I'm sitting down or I'd get squashed if I'm standing. And then to race against the flow of people to get off or get on the subway cart - those are the worst with the bumping, the pushing, and that one moment when a hidden pervert would 'accidentally' brush his hand against my ass. The main reason why I got a license in the first place.

"Would you mind if I took at look at your collection?" Lucas asked as I slowed into a stop at a red light.

"Why?"

"Just curious." He was sincere.

"Go ahead," I said. "Just don't take them out of their cases."

"I won't."

I watch him as he took out my CD's from the glove compartments and went through my music selections.

"Hmm, funny. I was actually picturing you as a girl who enjoyed classical music like Beethoven or Mozart or Debussy but you're actually what your image says," he mused.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "And what does my image say?"

"That you're a lover of rock and roll."

"Oh." I wasn't expecting that. "Thanks, I guess."

He nodded absently as he looked through the albums, his expression now unknown to me. "Do you organize them?"

"By year and date," I said naturally. "The rest are at my home."

I wondered if he listens to the same type of music as me. He seems to be aware of the bands in his hands. At least I think so because I couldn't really tell what is going through his mind. He is a conundrum.

" _The Who - Led Zeppelin - The Rolling Stones - Pink Floyd,_ " he murmured. " _U2 - Queen - Sex Pistols - The Beatles_ \- you have quite a collection here, Maya. I don't think I've met anyone love this music as much as you do."

"It's the only good music there is out there," I said. I took out a lone CD case from the compartment and handed it to him. "This one was my mom's."

" _The Cranberries_ ," he read.

"My first CD."

"I've heard a couple of their songs. They're decent. May I ask why your mother gave you her CD?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Sentimental value? She tends to have her dramatic moments from time to time. She was in drama until college and she would audition for local plays sometimes."

I don't know why I'm telling him all of this stuff. I never spoke about my mother to anyone besides Riley and her family. She was a topic I like to avoid except with Shawn.

"Any plays I've heard of?" he asked as he flipped through the cases again.

"Probably," I sighed. "In the play reviews section of the newspaper under _Worst Play of the Decade_. The critics were really brutal on her acting skills and the storylines of the plays she was in. She stopped acting for a while."

"Perhaps she's going for the wrong projects," Lucas said. "If your mother ever wants to talk, I could arrange a private audition for her with some talent scouts. I know a couple of them looking for a new face for some upcoming shows in Times Square."

"That won't be necessary," I answered automatically. A gripping sensation squeezed my heart in. "She's really not looking for anything right now."

 _She's too busy at being missing,_ a bitter voice whispered in my head.

The light turned green as a group of pedestrians reached the other side of the street and I stepped on the gas pedal, silently cutting off the conversation. I could feel his eyes settled on me, burning a hole on the side of my head. It was hard to keep my eyes on the road.

"What about you?" I asked in hopes of distracting him away from me. "Do you have a favorite genre?"

"Not really. I don't have much of a preference when it comes to music."

"I don't that hard to believe."

His eyes glowed interest. "May I ask why?"

"You said control is a vital tool to you," I remarked without a thought. "Doesn't having a preference in specific things mean you have control? It's like setting your mind on that one thing. That's like mental control."

The smirk on his face did not betray any signs of annoyance or displeasure; he looked mostly fascinated. "That is true. Preference does require some sorts of control in the matter of the mind. But what if my preference is in more than one way to enjoy it? The rhythm - the sensation - the thrill - it will all be the same in different ways. Some things will catch my eye in more way than one. So yes, Maya, preference is a way of control but it depends on what attracts me towards it."

 _My God_. His voice got lower, more gruff, at the last thing he said. It was like sex was dripping from his tongue. He sounded a bit distant, almost like he was having a faraway thought.

"I'm pleased to see you recall our conversation in my office," he noted, his voice now friendly and light. The dramatic switch leaves me befuddled.

"Interview," I corrected.

How could I forget the most unbelievable experience in my life? The annoyance of this man being unnerved by my constant teases and insults was permanently stitched to my memory and I wish I could erase that blow to my ego. Yet here we are a week later after, with the same man in my car and us going to a coffee shop to talk privately. Clearly, my failed attempts at the interview hadn't scared him off. In fact, it seems to have done the opposite.

A couple of miles later, I parked into an empty space in front of Birch Coffee Shop and killed the engine. Lucas was already climbing out of the car before I pull my keys out of the ignition and he was opening my door with a polite smile while holding his hand out to me. Boy, he moves fast. I ignore his hand as I get out of the car and slammed the door shut behind me. He didn't say anything but followed me to the entrance. I thought I heard a chuckle. Lucas quickly walked ahead of me to hold the door for me so I can step inside. Too much southern hospitality in less than a minute.

Not many people are seen in the shop besides the busboy who is collecting and cleaning used dishes. I would come to this place if I'm too far from my workplace and it isn't usually this slow, but I wish the tables were occupied.

"How about I get us something to drink while you choose a table? What would you like to drink?" he asked cordially.

"Vanilla Chai Latte. Double vanilla."

"Anything to eat?"

"No thanks."

Lucas finally heads to the counter and I go to the table in the farthest corner. As I sit in the chair against the wall, I gaze at him through my lashes as he stands in line waiting to be served and I bit my lip as I pondered. What could this guy possibly want to talk to me about? The way he acts around me is so cryptic, it was like he was a mystery I couldn't solve. I couldn't figure out if he's doing all of this to try to bed me or if he is being serious. Riley's words were fighting against my woman's intuition. Oh, he was so confusing yet so breathtaking and captivating in the most irritable way.

He is surprisingly tall that I would have to look up at him every time. His shoulders were broad and his body looked to be slim under his shirt. There is also the way how his jeans fit him snug - I could see how nice his ass looks. A few times he would run his long fingers through his hair which was now dry but still ruffled in a charming way. Hmm, I want to know how it feels with my fingers.

I shook my head. _Where the hell did that come from?_

A minute later, Lucas returns with a tray and sets it down on the small, round table next to ours. He sets a cup on a saucer in front of me with the cream filled to the brim and three raspberries on top. He then sets a small basket of baked chocolate cookies before he sits down across from me, holding a coffee that has a pretty leaf milk design., and he crosses his legs. I took a tentative sip of my latte and licked up the cream that fell on my upper lip.

"How's your latte?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Taste like a latte."

"I see. Is he your boyfriend?"

 _Wow, what?_ I blinked. "Who?"

"The photographer."

"Jordan?" I laughed incredulously. "Yeah right. If I want to know what incest feels like then yeah but no, he's not my boyfriend. He already has enough on his hands with his on-and-off girlfriend." I looked at him curiously. "What makes you think he was my boyfriend?"

"He spoke highly of you," he answered. "He couldn't stop talking about you and the amazing opportunity you gave him."

"He's more of a classmate."

Lucas nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer, and glanced down at the basket of cookies. His long fingers held one and placed it on the small plate he brought. He pushed it towards me.

"I don't want any," I said.

"You should eat something."

"No thanks." I frown and sip at my latte again. "Why do you care if I have a boyfriend or not?"

"You seem to catch the attention of men around you."

I huffed out a chuckle. "You should take a closer look to what you refer to as 'attention' then, Huckleberry. I tend to scare men away."

"You sound intimidating."

"I like to think so."

He smiled. "I couldn't help but notice that you've called me in a lot of creative names. I believe you've called me Ranger Rick and now Huckleberry?"

I smirked. "My parents taught me to call another in respect. I figure calling you in names based on your heritage is nice enough. You are from Texas."

Lucas rose a brow. "You are a mystery, Miss Hunter."

 _Oh, back to formalities, are we?_ I thought as I ran my finger along the rim of the cup. "Not really."

"I disagree. You're very closed up about yourself," he murmured. "Except when you blush. You look very...flustered when you do." He takes a cookie from the basket and took a bite, slowly chewing, never taking his eyes off me.

"You're creepily observant," I said.

"And you're freely honest."

"I say what I feel."

Lucas cocked his head to the side. "And what do you feel right now?"

"That you're persistent," I said. "You don't seem to take 'no' for an answer."

"I like for things to go my own way," he replied. "Only to an expense."

"You didn't seem to know them with me."

"I really wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

He forms another dazzling smile. "About you."

Whoa. Call me dazed. This guy reminds of me Riley in some way. He is a control freak, there's no denying it, and it made me wonder what would have happened if Riley was well enough to go to that interview. They would be perfect for each other. Riley would most likely be amazed by his stories and he would probably enjoy the undivided attention - she is a good listener. Plus, she is beautiful so she does live up to the appropriate appearance to his preference in women, maybe even more. They would be the ideal couple of the world. Except I don't like the idea of Riley and Lucas together.

I drink my latte, consuming more than my previous ones, in order to get an unexpected bad taste in my mouth. My chest was constricting in ways I hate. Lucas bites off another piece of his cookie.

"I pictured you as an only child," he said.

"I was."

"Tell me about your family."

Why does he want to know about this stuff? He looks so keen on it. I wasn't.

"What do you want to know?" I asked. I am trying to lure him away from any topics that is too personal for me.

"Your parents."

"My mother is a writer. She on a trip to meet with a publishing company in Tampa." That was the best lie I could make up when it comes to her. "Shawn, my stepdad, is a travel photographer. He's coming back from Minnesota in time for my graduation. Jonathan is their son and my half-brother."

"And your biological father?"

Pain erupted inside me at the mentioning of my father. I tighten my hold a little bit, wishing that the feeling would be numbed out somehow. The topic of my father isn't one that I like to talk about, especially when it's brought up in a conversation, unless it was to help comfort Jonathan. The tragedy had occurred a long time ago and I've long dwelled on it enough afterwards. I've learned to cope with it and it brought me priceless treasures along the way. I keep reminding myself of that.

Putting on a brave face, I took a sip of my latter and said, "He walked out on me and my mom when I was five. Haven't seen him since."

The smile that graced his face faded and sympathy was bare in his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I apologizing for bringing up old wounds, Maya."

"I don't need your pity," I said. "I don't remember him."

That was a lie. I do remember him clear as day. It was hard not to. I just don't like to think about him.

"And your mother remarried? I recall your brother mentioning that Superintendent Turner used to teach your current father."

"Yes, he did."

"You don't seem to like to give too much away," he frowned, rubbing his chin as if in deep thought.

"You're not giving away anything at all."

"I figure it seemed fair to ask you all the questions now since you've interviewed me once," he smirked deviously. "And you have asked some rather interesting questions."

I matched his smirk. I could never be ashamed of my 'gay' question. He is hilarious if he thinks he could make me feel any sorts of embarrassment. It was one of my most golden moments. If I had a book recording all of my unforgettable times, that would have been number three-hundred-and-fifteen.

"I guess it's only fair," I said. "My mother is strong-willed. She would do anything she sets her mind into. But under all of that backbone, she's a hopelessly romantic dork. She finally got married again after nine years."

Lucas raises his brows in surprise.

"She deserves it," I continued. "She's been through a lot of shit, going to hell and back, for the both of us. I miss her." I smiled fondly, almost tearfully. I haven't seen my mother in so long. Lucas watches me intently, taking a couple of sips of his coffee. I tried to not stare at his lips as he wiped the vanilla away with his tongue.

"Do you get along with your stepfather?" he asked.

"We're like twins. He's the only father I know."

"And what's he like?"

"Shawn? You could say he's me or I'm him."

"That's it?" Lucas asked, stunned.

I shrugged. I couldn't find a better explanation as that. He should be able to get a good picture after knowing me.

"Is he as tedious as his step-daughter likes to be?" he responded.

I scowled. "He likes 80's music but he mostly loves the Counting Crows, a 90's band - he is a car enthusiast like me - he likes poetry and is a poet - he speaks five languages - he a baseball fan, mostly to Philadelphia Phillies and Pittsburgh Pirates - he's a photographer - he's best friends with my best friend's father. He comes from the same background as me only worse but he turned out to be a wonderful for me and my mother."

"You live with him?"

"Lived - I moved out of my home at the beginning of my freshmen year of college and moved in with Riley," I said. Where is Lucas going with this conversation? My personal life is none of his business. Well, two can play at that game. "Tell me about your parents."

He shrugged. "My father retired from his position as CEO of Minkus International and my mother is a fashion designer. They both lived in Philadelphia and later moved here in New York."

He doesn't seem so eager to speak about his family life. It makes me wonder what made a successful couple like the Minkus' who already bear two children of their own, want to adopt this gorgeous man who single-handedly took over the world of business and marketing. Could it be that his adoptive parents inspired him to do what he does now? His parents must be proud. Great, I'm starting to sound like Riley.

"And what do your siblings do?" I questioned.

He smiles in delight. "I see you've done a proper research."

"More or less," I snorted. "Riley wouldn't shut up about her article. She mumbles a lot when she writes or plotting something. It doesn't help that we're practically glued to the hip."

"She's very resourceful."

I nodded. I decided to resist temptation and finally take a bite out of the chocolate cookie he offered earlier. I momentarily closed my eyes as I savored the taste of melting cocoa smeared over my tongue and baked dough slipping down my throat. If I didn't love chocolate as much as I do now then I love it more.

"So...your siblings?" I repeated.

"Farkle is in the business like me as you know from the interview, and my sister is in Europe studying marine biology." His tone was irked. His eyes were hardened in irritation and his lips were formed in a thin line. He really doesn't like talking about his family.

"I had a scholarship to Royal College of Art but I turned it down," I murmured. I couldn't stop thinking why he doesn't want to talk about his family. Could it be because he is adopted?

"Why would you do that? You could have gotten so many opportunities in your major," he said. His features were now gentle and friendly, all signs of his irritation gone. All that remains is curiosity. "Europe is the heart of art after all. Did you not want to leave your home?"

"I didn't have a choice," I said. "I didn't have enough money for the flight and the price for the supplies were way above my budget. So I turned it down and opted in studying here. I knew a couple of people who studied in the same major as me so they lend me their books. It was an easier way to kill two birds with one stone."

"Would you have loved to go? Even if it meant leaving behind your friends and family?"

I thought about it for a second. "Mmm, yeah. The school was in London. I always wanted to go there."

"Because? It couldn't have been because of Michelangelo was born in Italy."

"Michelangelo was my inspiration to become an artist but he's not my only favorite one. I wanted to go to London because that's where Anna Airy, John Bratby, Thomas Girtin, William Hogarth, and Joseph Turner were born. I would have loved to see their original pieces in person."

He nodded, running his index finger along his bottom lip. I bit my own. It looks rather luscious.

"Your biological father doesn't know what he had," he remarked, surprising me by his firm tone mixed with sincerity. Then he reached his warm hand out to brush my fingers with the tip of his, lightly running it up to my knuckle then down to my nail in a comforting manner. There is was again - the electricity ignited once more only it seem tenfold upon contact. I had to suppress my gasp.

"It doesn't bother me anymore," I said.

Then a loud vibration was heard from beneath the table. Lucas retracted his hand from mine and reached underneath to pull out his cellphone. He stared at the screen for a minute before he sighed and put his phone away.

"It seems I have to cut our time short," he said. "I have to head back and get ready for my last meeting with the board."

"Oh." My heart sank. I didn't really want to leave just when things were getting interesting. "Don't bore yourself to death."

"I'll try not to," he chuckled. "Besides, I already took up much of your time. You still need to meet up with your little brother at Amorino, don't you?"

"Yeah." I drank the last of my coffee and licked my lips. "I could give you a ride."

"No need. I'll contact Mr. Ricciardella and he'll be here soon. Come - I'll walk you to your car," he insisted, and holds out his hand to me with a kind smile. I took it - I don't know why I did - allow him to pull me up from the chair and then lead me out of the coffee shop. My eyes stayed focused on our linked hands, noticing how his large hands - warm and strong - engulfed mine, clasping onto it like a hostage. He was so tan, so perfectly colored, while my skin looked pale and snowy in contrast.

We strolled back to my car in silence. He is still holding my hand; the electrical current returns in a bigger, forceful surge, that lingered up and down on my arm, making all the hairs on my body stand tall. I don't think he realizes what he's doing. Or maybe he does. He looks like his usual calm, cool, and collected self. His eyes didn't give away any resentment on our little coffee time but he doesn't look like he was thinking about it.

My ears perk when I hear a familiar bell ringing not too far from us and my eyes widen in horror as Lucas continued to make his way towards my car.

"Shit, Lucas!" I cried.

With as much strength I could muster with my petite body, I tighten my grip on his hand and tug him back towards me as roughly as I could that he stumbled against my form. A teen bicyclist raced past us, loudly cursing our ancestors over his shoulder as he continued down the path. I quickly grabbed a medium-sized rock on the cement and threw it towards him with a snap of my wrist; I grin in pride to see it collided with the guy and he ended up tumbling into a mailbox.

"Good arm," Lucas noted.

"Thanks," I said. "You know for someone who lived in New York for a long time, your reflexes are kind of slow. No wonder you don't have a girlfriend," I blurted out - _holy shit, did I just say that?_

"I just don't do the whole relationship thing," he said softly.

I hadn't realized it until now how we ended up tangled up in each other; his arm was curled around me at the waist, arching me towards him, and my hands were clutching on the front of his shirt, subconsciously clinging him closer to me. I could smell his scent of sandalwood and musk. It isn't anything I smelled before. It is fresh and addictive, almost too intoxicating. He must have noticed our position too; he was now gazing at me with indecipherable eyes while bringing his hand up to my face, lightly tracing his fingers along my jawline and soon my breath hitches as his thumb touches my lower lip.

He held my gaze for a couple of minutes before his eyes slowly drew down on my mouth and became hooded, darkening. He also looks like he's trying to keep his breathing steady.

This is madness. To have a man this close to me, to have such intimacy with someone I barely know. This goes against all of my morals. I've never done with anyone else but Josh. His touch I was familiar with, I memorized it by heart, but Lucas' leaves me tingling in places I forgot I could feel and my heart suffocating from the rapid beats - it scares me. This isn't me. I don't do this in public, not even when I was with Josh.

I closed my eyes and take in a deep breath as I shook my head. I can't do this. I just can't.

"I have to go," I whispered as I detach myself from him. I don't do the whole relationship thing. Riley was wrong - he didn't want me that way. I can't do this. I hug my jacket closer to me, almost to shield myself from him. "Thanks for the coffee and for the photoshoot but I really have to go."

"Maya...I…" He stops himself once he noticed my glare, warning him to remain silent, then he nodded as he ran his hand through his hair. He was torn, anguished, all of his restraints of his control slowly dissipating.

"Goodbye, Mr. Friar."

I turn my heel and quickly trudged over to my car, reaching into my pocket to fish out my keys. I fumbled with them for a second and it slipped from my fingers, falling into a small puddle at my feet. God, am I turning as clumsy as Riley now? I went to pick it up but Lucas had beaten me and he was holding my keys to me, the same look never leaving his face.

I snatch the keys out of his hand and quickly unlocked my car. However, Lucas, being the annoying gentlemen he showed to be, took the liberty to hold the door open to me, and I climbed in without a word as he closed the door behind me. He lightly rapped his knuckles on my window as I shoved my key in the ignition and I glanced up at him to see him staring down at me with pleading eyes. I lowered the window a tiny bit.

"Drive safely," he said solemnly. "Goodbye, Miss Hunter."

 _Damn it. Stop looking like a victim._ I screamed in my thoughts.

I could feel my control slipping now. I turned the engine on and hurriedly slipped out of the parking space, seeing a small smoke trail behind me as I accelerated down the bustling road. I kept my eyes ahead, on signs, on pedestrians, on anything if it meant that I don't glance back at him through my side mirrors and see his broken face again unless I want to fall back to him.

* * *

 **A/N:** Just do you know the phone number is completely fake. I made it up.

 **Please Review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** I do not own Girl Meets World, the characters, the locations, the songs and quotes mentioned. But I do own the plot.

* * *

 _Floating down through the clouds_

 _Memories come rushing up to meet me now._

 _In the space between the heavens_

 _and in the corner of some foreign field_

 _I had a dream_

 _I had a dream_

 _Good-bye Max_

 _Good-bye Ma_

 _After the serng slowly to the car_

 _And the silver in her hair shines in the cold November air_

 _You hear the tolling bell_

 _And touch the silk in your lapel_

 _And as the tear drops rise to meet the comfort of the band_

 _You take her frail hand_

 _And hold on to the dream._

 _A place to stay_

\- A Gunner's Dream; Pink Floyd

* * *

 _"It is by no means an irrational fancy that, in a future existence, we shall look upon what we think our present existence, as a dream."_

― Edgar Allan Poe

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Colored Blind**

I instantly spotted the others sitting in a booth closest to the window as I parked the car in a surprisingly open space from across Amorino. I had locked the car after climbing out and when I stomped over to the front entrance, I saw Joey exiting. He halted for a second at the sight of me and pursed his lips, obviously noticing the enraged vibes surfacing from me, then he wordlessly held the door open for me. I didn't speak a word; I just walked past him and made my way over to the booth.

Everybody was in a cheerful mood, boasting loudly and chattering rapidly about things I couldn't understand, except Jonathan, who was scarfing down a mountain of what I like to call diabetes waiting to happen. From the looks of it, it was a pistachio sundae with four banana slices, three flavors of syrups, a layer of sprinkles and gummies, and three cherries on top. His mouth was splattered of ice cream and his eyes were bright in energy. Oh great - now I have to deal with a sugar-induced Jonathan and go through a struggle to tuck him to bed.

I could see Antoine going through his phone, most likely scrolling through his Instagram feed, and laughing shamelessly on whatever posts he sees. Beside him, Riley and Jordan were talking in their own world, going through the stills of his camera. More like Riley doing most of the talking as she went through his camera while Jordan stared at her with a familiar gleam in his eyes and a dazed smile. Uh oh - I don't want Riley to be involved in any drama with his on-and-off girlfriend.

I quicken my pace to the booth, purposely making my steps hard enough to make my boots clack loudly. Riley immediately recognized the sound and turned to me in glee only for her welcoming smile to fade into a troubled frown.

"Peaches, what's wrong?"

I just shook my head as I slid into the booth beside her and took a spoonful of her melting ice cream. I regretted doing that because it was rainbow sherbet. I grab a napkin and spit it out.

"You look angry," observed Riley. She has a creepy talent in spotting the obvious about me. "What happened?"

"Nothing, Riles," I mumbled.

"Then why is your face red? You look like you want to murder someone right now," she said, her voice tender and soft. I could see her eyes pooling in worry. She wraps her arm around and hugs me close, rubbing her hand over my shoulder. I didn't really want to talk about this right now or at all.

"I had to save a cowboy," I murmured. I wasn't going to mention the aftermath. "He almost got run over by a bicyclist."

Her eyes widen. "Oh my God, is he okay? Is that why Joey had to leave?"

"He's fine - I saved his ass and knocked the bicyclist unconscious with a rock," I said.

"That's good - well, not good that you hurt someone with a rock - I thought I told you to stop doing that or you'll get arrested for assault one of these days - but it's good that you saved him, Maya. You're a hero." She hugs me tighter. "So how was coffee? Did anything interesting happen?"

I could hear the curiosity in her voice. I sighed. "It was just coffee. Nothing interesting to report. We just had a small talk."

Interest piqued in her eyes. "About what?"

"Doesn't matter. I won't be seeing him again," I said matter-of-factly, even though my body was beginning to feel heavy in despair. I pulled her arm off of me in hopes that she doesn't feel my muscles tense up under her fingertips.

"What?" She was shocked - that was no surprise. "Why not?"

I rolled my eyes. I grabbed on her wrist and yanked her with me as I get out from the booth then led her further away from the others, closer to where the restrooms are. I could feel Jordan's eyes following us as far as he could. Inside the restroom, I let go of Riley's wrist and checked every stall under the door, letting out a relieved breath once I saw neither of them were occupied. Riley had her arms crossed and a patient look on her face when I turned back to her.

"Yeah...he's not exactly my type, pumpkin," I said dryly, hopefully convincing enough to my benefit. "We didn't exactly click."

"How come? What did you two talk about?"

"Just basic things." _Important things_ , a voice added in my head. "Likes, dislikes, hobbies, and all that. He's not exactly all that interesting. He's like a walking piece of bread."

"That's not nice," Riley frowned. "He certainly doesn't have a personality of a bread when I spoke to him. I found his story to giving a birth to a horse and finding the inspiration to originally wanting to be a veterinarian to be really moving. Not many guys these days would want to be involved with animals."

I blinked. "What?"

"What what?"

"What did you just say?"

"Oh," Riley blushed. "While Jordan and Antoine were setting up the photoshoot, I took the time to talk to Lucas - off the record, of course - and it turns out he originally wanted to be a veterinarian when he used to live in Texas. He was young when he thought about that profession - it was one day after school, one of his twenty-four horses -"

Holy shit, twenty four? Did this guy live in a stable or something? Makes me wonder how much crap he had to clean up.

"- her name was Sophia, and she had fallen - that means she was giving birth," Riley continued. "He was alone so he called Dr. Glideno and he talks Lucas through it. He managed to help Sophia give birth to a healthy baby."

"That sound like it hurt," I said sarcastically. I tried to not be bothered by how Riley could easily get Lucas to speak about himself so freely and that she was talking about him in first name basis when he would switch between me. I don't understand the guy. He offers me coffee and want to talk to me but he doesn't reveal anything deep about himself. I don't really consider this as something important but it still stung to know he wouldn't even tell me that.

"It was a beautiful story," she responded. "Did you know a baby horse stands up for the first time one hour after its birth? I wish I had been there to see that."

I grunted and crossed my arms, feeling a bit put out by all of this. I don't get why. I don't particularly like these kinds of stories that sound ridiculously heroic or prince-like. It only made Lucas look more like a stereotypical jock who wants to change the world. Those aren't my type - I don't like simple boys with unrealistic dreams or nothing but a fitting image of a fantasy.

"Riley, maybe you should be the one to have coffee with him next time," I suggested. "You seem to be interested in him and he looks like he has no problem talking to you about his Ranger Rick stories."

"Maya, you know he's way out of my league," she murmured.

"Honey, he's out of _my_ league," I snorted. "I'm a girl with a street rat reputation remember? And he's some millionaire heir who gives birth to horses and shits out thousands of dollars. We don't exactly seem compatible by our backgrounds."

Riley frowned. "Maya, you can't use your past as an excuse to not be with someone. You're nothing like the way you used to be. You still kept some of your rough edges but you're not bad enough to be considered as a _'deadbeat delinquent'_ in our neighborhood," she added, raising her hands to add air quotes. "But you're not anymore. You're a better you. So it shouldn't be a surprise that someone like Lucas Friar is interested in you."

"And you're Riley," I said. "You're the type of girl that someone like Huckleberry would go after. He seems perfect for you."

 _He doesn't have a problem talking to you about him after all_ , a voice added bitterly in my head.

"But he isn't going for me - he went for you."

"If he knew you better, I'm sure he would be all over you."

"But Maya, he's all over you!" she sighed in frustration, tossing her hands up in exasperation. "Why do you try to push him towards me? I'm not even looking for a relationship right now!"

"I could ask you the same thing!"

"I already told you why!"

"Then maybe I don't want it either!"

Riley seemed unconvinced. "Now you know that's not true."

I looked at her in disbelief. "Why isn't it true?"

"Peaches, if it was true then you wouldn't have agreed to have coffee with him in the first place," she stated. Then she placed a gentle hand on my arm, her face of frustration softening with a smile. "You like him, do you?"

"No," I answered automatically though I'm pretty sure I could feel my cheeks burning. The smile falls from her face. "Look,you whackjob, Sundance and I are never going to happen. He doesn't want to go out with me. He's not going out with me. He's never going out with me." I grab her by the shoulders and give her a little shake. "Accept that."

"Except what?"

"No Riles," I groaned. I was resisting the urge to bring my hands up to her neck and strangle the common sense back into her. " _Accept_ that."

"But, Maya, you -"

"Can we just go back out there and eat the ice cream so we can go home?" I cut her short. "You need to study and I need to finish my project. I also need to get Jon out of here soon because he's on a sugar rush so he's gonna crash soon."

"Maya, we need to talk about this."

"Later."

I turn away from her and quickly rushed out of the bathroom. I could hear her scurrying after me, easily stepping into the same pace as me with her long gangly legs. Sometimes I hate my short height due to these disadvantages.

"You know I'm not letting this go," she said firmly. "We _will_ talk about this later."

"Unfortunately."

"Do you want to see the pictures? Jordan took some really good ones."

I shot her an annoyed look. The last thing I need is to be visually reminded of the Lucas I-Don't-Like-To-Talk-About-Myself-To-Anyone-But-To-Your-Best-Friend Friar and remember those craving eyes of his. But I knew Riley would immediately assume otherwise if I rejected her and continued with her theory about Lucas being interested in me.

"I just needed a second opinion," she added.

I sighed. "Sure."

I forced a smile on my face and she squealed quietly in delight. She grabbed my hand and we strolled back to the booth, happily swinging our arms between us. A couple of people would glance at us strangely and quietly spoke among themselves but neither Riley or I reacted to them. For years we've had our share of encounters with homophobic people who misunderstood our friendship to one of a lesbian relationship and, although at first we felt offended by the assumptions and accusations, we learned to share a laugh at it as the years went by, going with the thought that if people instantly think we were gay for each other then our friendship was better than theirs could be.

Once we reached the booth, Riley asked Jordan for his camera and handed it to me before Jordan immediately caught Riley's attention about some topic I didn't really care about - it was something of a convention or something along those lines. I glanced over to Jonathan and see that he was finishing the last layer of his ice cream sundae, though, he does look somewhat green, and I knew I was going to end up cleaning up some of his vomit later on. Antoine was nowhere in sight - he was probably on the phone somewhere.

I clicked on the MENU button and went through the slideshow of the recent pictures taken, and soon, there he is, staring at me with those desirous eyes. The photos have captured the ferocity and power in his eyes that has me drowning in endless shivers, and made me wonder if perhaps the others have caught it too.

I pretend to seem like I was searching for any signs of mistakes or spots of damage of the film but I couldn't deny that I was actually looking for something about him to show why he is not the man for me or why I should not allow him to be nothing more but a man to me. It was really obvious like I told Riley; he was too good-looking, extremely successful, grounded, and known. He comes from a world of expensive cars, sharp suits, tall buildings, good reputation, model-like women, and security in finance meanwhile I come from a world of classic cars, small apartment buildings, coffee shops, average people, and hold the reputation of a delinquent. We were two different people with two different ambitions.

I knew I couldn't give him what he wants of a woman and he wouldn't understand my reasons. This makes my rejection on him easier to live by...only a little. I can live with this. I am okay. I am always okay.

"They're pretty good, honey," I spoke, handing the camera back to her. "We should get going. We got a long day waiting for us," I grumbled, glancing over at Jonathan, who was now humming some random tune and swaying his head to the rhythm with a dazed look in his eyes. I slide out of the booth and made my way to the other side. "Let's go, kiddo."

Jonathan literally jumps onto me, barely giving me time to catch him, kicking his legs and arms around wildly as he laughed almost maniacally. I shot a look at Riley, who was grinning sheepishly and giggling quietly.

"Alright," I grunted while throwing him over my shoulder, leaning my head away from his flailing legs.

"Let's go to the park!" he said loudly.

"We need to take you back home," I retorted.

"But I wanna go play with the horses and ride over to the kingdom far, far away so I could slay the evil dragon with my mighty sword and be the best knight in the galaxy!"

"You're going to bed."

"But...but...but...The Burger King told me it was my destiny to slay the Ronald McDragon! I have to protect the universe! I have to avenge Spock! His death shall not be in vain!"

"Yup, you're gonna crash," I muttered to myself before turning to Riley. "We gotta go."

Riley nodded and comes out of the booth. Jordan follows her closely, a mask of apprehension over his face, and I narrowed my eyes at him. I don't like that look on him.

"I'll call you later?" He looked flustered, scratching the nape of his neck. "Y-you know, to find out which picture you chose and how it turned out for your article."

Riley smiled sweetly. "Thanks again for the help, Jordan. I really appreciate it. I don't think I could have done this article without you."

"Hey!" I gasped. "I take offense to that!"

"Oh, you know you were a big part in making this article possible, Peaches," Riley added. "You know you don't need me to tell you that."

I smiled in satisfaction. She wasn't wrong there.

Suddenly, Jonathan stopped all movement and let out a pained groan. "Ugh...I don't feel so good."

My eyes widen in terror. "Jon, don't-"

It was too late; Jonathan had heaved in a huge breath and when he exhaled out another groan, an unpleasant sensation ran down my back as he retched out the gallons of liquid sugar, and a repulsive stench hit my nose like a train.

A wave of collective gasps and disgruntled moans was heard taking over the shop from the other customers or employees as Jonathan continued to drain himself. The fact that he kept on vomiting made me wonder just how much bowls of ice cream he truly had before I got here and that I knew my jacket - or my clothes in general, as well as my hair - was going to need three to five washings to get the stink and stain out.

Riley clamped her hands over her mouth, her eyes big and shocked. Jordan looked like he was going to faint at the sight of my brother's insides in plain sight and had to turn away from the scene. I had closed my eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, trying to not get sick by the gross fumes of my brother, in order to keep myself calm in this situation. I really just wanted to get the fuck out of here.

Once he was done, Jonathan coughed a little and said in a small voice, "Sorry, sis," before he lost consciousness and dropped like a limp corpse on my shoulder. Then, from the corner of my eye, I could see an employee, the manager to be exact, coming out from the back room and she approached me.

I sighed. Could this day get any worse?

* * *

It was only when Riley and I got home that I managed to wake up Jonathan from his sugar-induced coma to get him to change out of his vomit-covered clothes and get him to take a bath. Riley had gotten to work to preparing a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup for when Jonathan came out from his bath and put my clothes, except my leather jacket, in the washing machine after I changed out of them. Since I knew Jonathan was going to be in my bathroom for a while, I used Riley's in the meantime - unfortunately I had to use her bubbly strawberry shampoo and peaches conditioner, which were not my favorite scent - and stayed there for a good two hours to rid the smell of vomit.

"I'm sorry I puked on you, Maya," mumbled Jonathan.

I stopped scrubbing my jacket and looked my brother in front of me. He was dressed in his pajamas, my robe clad over his shoulders, and he has one of my good towels wrapped around his hair. The color in his cheeks were slowly returning, his eyes were still drowsy, and he had his head resting on his folded arms. The bowl in front of him only held a little bit of soup left.

"It's alright, bud," I said as I resumed scrubbing. I don't really trust the washing machine in handling the stain, afraid that the cycle would tear it.

"I really am sorry," he whimpered. "Can I make it up to you?"

"You're already are," I smirked. "Do you feel bad?"

"Yeah."

"Do you feel confused sometimes?"

"Yeah."

"Somewhat light-headed?"

"Yeah."

"And now you have a huge headache?"

Jonathan nodded. "Yeah."

"And does your tummy hurt?" I asked in a mocking sympathetic voice.

"Yes!"

"Congratulations, you little dork," I grinned. "You're experiencing a sugar crash. That's the best form of punishment you could get."

Jonathan pouted. "This sucks."

"Now you know why dad doesn't let you eat so much sugar," I said. "Which, by the way, is the last time. I'm cutting you off for good. When I take you back to Matthews, I'm gonna make sure he doesn't have an ounce of sugar in that place even if I gotta turn that place upside down."

"You sounded a lot cooler back in high school," said Jonathan.

"Hey, I was the one that asked mom and dad for dog on my birthday, instead they brought you home." I stuck my tongue out at him as I flicked a few suds at him, making him squeal. "Now hurry up and finish your soup so you could head off to bed."

"It's not even seven!"

"Don't try me when you feel like your head could blow off any minute. Now go."

Jonathan sent me a hilarious face before he grabbed his bowl and went to sit down on the couch in the living room while I resumed scrubbing my jacket. I turned on the faucet and stuck the jacket under the rushing water, rinsing away the bubbles to reveal that the spots of the vomit were gone. I unclogged the sink and took my jacket to the dryer, set the machine on low, turned the dial up to an hour, then started it up.

Riley came skipping out of her bedroom, clutching her open laptop close, with a look of triumph. Her hair, tied up in a high ponytail, swished across her neck and she was whistling some happy tune.

"Don't skip, bonehead," I said.

Riley halts in a light hop in front of me and I grimaced at the loud thud. It wasn't long until several thumps was felt beneath my feet along with an angered muffled voice shouting through the floorboards. I stomped hard on the floor a couple of times until all noises ceased from below.

"If he comes up then you're handling him," I said. I wasn't in the mood to listening to complaining geezers. "What you're so happy-skippy about?"

"I just put the finishing touches of my article," she answered. "Check it out!"

Riley puts the laptop on the kitchen counter and pops up a window where I am instantly greeted by the remarkable picture of Lucas Friar in black and white. I could see other stills of other stories Riley's teammates discovered but they all seemed irrelevant in comparison to the full-blown picture of intense eyes and charming smile.

"Looks good, Riles," I said.

"Now I just need to put the finishing designs for the other pages for the newspaper, send them to my station back at campus, and starting printing them out so they could be published hopefully by Monday," said Riley. "Do you think you could give it a quick read? I usually do double takes for any grammar or placement errors but I really need to go to the bathroom."

"I'm not an expert journalist."

"But you can read." She kissed me on the cheek. "Thank you!"

Riley quickly ran back to her room and soon another series of thuds came from the apartment downstairs. I did a high hop and slammed my feet hard on the floor. That man is seriously getting on my last nerves. I lean against the counter edge and scrolled the page down a bit to keep the picture hidden before I started to read.

 **Path to Friar-Level Success**

 _By Riley Matthews_

 _Stories about the worldwide known bachelor, Lucas Friar, and his unexpected reign in the business community are still speculating to this day ever since the day he founded the solution to ending country rages. Many had theories on how a man from Texas, at a young age, was able to obtain the resources, the tools, and the mind to have amassed such an empire like Friar International Trade Inc. Some seem believable while others were too far-fetched to be true._

 _Recently in an interview with Lucas Friar himself, who was considerate to take the time to do so, had explained the motive behind how he was able to decrease any possibilities of a war with enemy countries or allied forces._

" _War," he spoke. "The world works with greed and mankind is willing to go beyond their limits if it means they get what they want. I've been on the other side of war so I know what people think, what drives them, what scares them, and what they desire."_

 _When asked on how he was able to succeed in such an ambition, he seemed confident and full of pride._

" _I have a strong belief in having a perfect routine that works for everybody in their own way. It was difficult but manageable," was his statement. "But once I've learned the key to how people work, I gained the knowledge of the in's, the loopholes if you may call it. Work became a second instinct to me with all the logic I got from years of experience and I formed a natural gut instinct whenever I have a decision to make, hiring new people into the company, and coming up with ways to keep the place a well-running machine. In the end of it all, it's all about knowing things."_

 _Lucas Friar comes from a background of knowledge, having studied Psychology in the prestigious University of Oxford in England. Not only does his educational history of the mind seems to be an essential tool to live up to his beliefs but it is the quote of a famous man, John Quincy Adams, that also helps him pursue after his purposes daily. 'If your actions inspire others to dream more, learn more, do more, and become more, you are a leader.'_

 _However, when asked if he had more than one inspiration to be grateful for his achievements, it seems that knowledge and motivational words were not enough to keep this successful man running._

" _The list is endless to me," he said. "I can most likely say that my real inspiration would have to be my grandfather, Pappy Joe. He is a war hero and he raised me as his own. He taught me everything about discipline, domination, and restraint. Three most important things in life. If it weren't for him, I don't think I wouldn't be where I am now."_

 _{ctd. Page 2, Column 1}_

I wasn't able to peel my eyes away from the screen. It was weird. To see the interview I did in person being written up the eyes of another person and soon to be exposed for other people to read. I was glad that Riley has the ability to rearrange the article to not show I was there. Even if she didn't, anybody I knew in the campus would probably doubt it was me speaking to Lucas. They would try to piece together on whether or not the information was a form of deceit for sales or a shocking truth if my name was anywhere in this article.

I slowly closed the laptop and went to the window, seeing that Jonathan in the living room, where he was watching an episode of Milo Murphy's Law. I told myself that it doesn't matter if people knew whether I talked to some big shot anyway. It's not like I'm going to see him again.

Before I could sit down, there was a loud knock on the door and I toss my head back as I let out a loud, frustrated yell. I could hear Mr. Hopkins demanding to see either Riley or I in his usual gruff voice as he continued to bang on the door. I honestly had enough of going through the usual routine of him coming up here to complain to us about the tiniest noises he hears above him - the majority not even coming from us - and constantly reassuring him to not complain to the landlord about us.

I move over to the dufflebag next to the couch and pull out Jonathan's baseball bat before I walked up to the door, the bat slung over my shoulder. I could sense Jonathan's nervous eyes staring after me and a light thump was heard followed by several other heading into the same direction Riley went to earlier.

"Aunt Riley - Code Red - Maya is gonna kill Mr. Hopkins!" he screamed in fear as I reached for the knob.

* * *

"Maya, you can't just go around threatening people with a bat," scolded Riley. "You're lucky Jon caught me on time or else you'd be handcuffed by the police right now."

I rolled my eyes and just continued to splatter another coat of mixed paint on the colored canvas. It was only an hour ago when Riley had prevented me from bashing in Mr. Hopkin's head and she was blowing up my ear about it but after nineteen years of friendship with her, I learned how to tune out her constant berating. I instead focused on trying to finish my project that I have yet to figure out to turn into; it was all only a huge blob of crossed colors, not really shaped in anything.

"I feel unlucky if you ask me," I mumbled.

"Well nobody asked you," she retorted. "Seriously, Maya, you need to stop using violence as a way to solve problems. What if one day you're alone and someone gets on your nerves and I'm not there to stop you from hurting them? What would happen then?"

"I'll throw the first thing I could grab to their heads," I answered cheekily.

"No, you'll be waiting behind bars until I bail you out for battery and assault."

"That's a bit harsh. Although, it might be only for assault. I'm hardly charged for battery."

"But it's true. You're no stranger to authority, Maya. You almost got arrested one time for vandalism, for Pete's sake!"

"Hey, in my defense, I was having an identity crisis!" I protested before playfully adding, "Don't forget about the time when the cops were close to charging me for possession of marijuana. That was a good day."

Riley stopped stirring in the pot to look at me incredulously. "That was _not_ a good day at all! You got in so much trouble with everyone and you were underage! You were nine! You shouldn't have been smoking in the first place!"

"But I wasn't smoking," I snorted. "That asshole, Jonah, planted the damn bag in my jacket. How was I supposed to know he was hiding from the pigs?"

"He was six years older than us, Maya."

"He owed me from hiding him!"

Riley rolled her eyes and resumed stirring. I went back to splattering more paint on the canvas, not really focusing on it, but to seem occupied in order to avoid any more scolding from my best friend.

Although, I do know that thinking I could avoid the possible game of endless questions with Riley would make me just plain stupid. I knew it was coming soon. Now that Jonathan is asleep, fed, and bathed, this is such an opportune moment to pin me down and force the answers out of me. It is like this every time there is something needed to be discussed and I try to soak in as much calm I could before the storm came.

I didn't want to relieve each tiny detail of my small coffee date with Lucas Friar. I don't want to remember how deliciously tempting he looked sitting in front of me with his luscious smiles and strong eyes or how his fluffed hair was so inviting to run my fingers through them and how his impressively large muscles were spilling out of his shirt, his biceps basically pulsating with his little movements.

I shook my head as I dipped my brush in the painted water and dried it with a used paper towel before I started to mix another coat of paint together, trying to keep myself collected while my mind raced with the memory of those arms secured around me during that one intimate moment we had. Adrenaline ran through my veins. I couldn't deny that the way we were tangled up together felt somewhat good, with the way he had my body arched against his, his toned chest pressed against mine, me clutching him towards me, and that arousing scent of sandalwood and musk surrounding me. I would be a liar if I said a small part of me didn't enjoy it.

But then the way how he touched my face and how his eyes became hooded when he glanced at my lips is what alarmed me. A warning bell went off in my head. Reality hit me afterwards and I realized how insanely close we were - he was practically molded into me - and I became scared because I could never allow a man to break into my inner vulnerability, not when I know what will be coming if it broke break. I tried that once - I tried to let Josh in - and it ended in disaster.

Of course, I knew Josh for years so I couldn't really compare him, an old love and memory, to Lucas, a person who is a stranger and have no history with. Yet, I don't think it really mattered whether I was close to him like I was to Josh - I still couldn't commit to my part of intimacy in the end.

Although, it was completely overwhelming to be in such a position with a man again. I forgot what it was like to be touched by a man's hand and to feel one with my own. But, looking past his gorgeous appearance and impassive behavior, there was definitely something off about Lucas Friar.

I wish I could figure it out.

The millionaire practically oozed confidence and security in himself yet he would seem tense whenever the conversation aimed towards his family, and then he would redirect it back towards me. It could be his skill from many years in the business? It does seem like a vital requirement to have to be the CEO if his own company. It could be that. He was easy on the eyes to the others when it came to getting things his way. Then when it came to something he seems displeased with, I could see it.

He obviously doesn't like talking about himself - more specifically, his family. But what bothered me more, as my mind flickered back to my conversation with him, is that he was reserved with me and he was more open to Riley. The thought of him speaking to Riley about his old dream of being a veterinarian and reciting his story of giving birth for the first time was a little troublesome. Why was it so hard for him to talk about himself to me but it seemed like the easiest thing to do with my best friend? Was it because of the topic or was he simply not interested in letting me know more about him? If so, then what would be the point of coffee?

Letting out a frustrated grunt, I dropped the brush in the water and ran my hands down my face, only to groan in aggravation once I remembered that I was covered in paint. Thank God, I chose to tie up my hair before I worked on my project. I wiped my hands on my smock and leaned back as I crossed my hands, staring absently at the canvas, too lost in my mind about the whole day. A disgusted thought went through my head; what the hell is wrong with me? Why do I care so much about this man who is gonna be another faded memory? Who was this girl that was so influenced by small details revolving about a man? I don't recognize myself at all.

"Another artist's block?" asked Riley, her voice breaking me out of my reverie.

I blinked while clearing my voice and murmured, "You could say that."

Riley had lowered the heat of the stove and was putting away her supplies before she halted to glance over at me. I could see her. from the corner of my eye, observing me thoroughly but I didn't react to it. Then I see her move around the kitchen for a minute and approached me, standing behind me as she placed her hands on my shoulders. I sighed deeply and tilted my head back against her stomach with my eyes closed as she knead her thumbs into the knotted muscles of my shoulders.

Geez. We really do act gay.

"Bay Window?" she suggested tentatively.

I smirked. "We are at the Bay Window, honey."

"You know what I mean," she retorted.

I frowned. "I don't want to talk about it."

"We need to talk about it. Ring Power."

I ball my hand into a shaking fist, feeling the ridges of my old, silver ring dig into the skin of my middle finger. Whenever one of us say Ring Power, we have to do what the other says without question or hesitation. It's a small rule Riley and I made up for each other when she gave me the friendship ring on my fourteenth birthday. Sometimes I curse the day we made up that silly rule.

"Fine," I grunted.

"Now what happened?"

I explained to her everything. Relieving every tiny detail was horrifying and incredibly wonderful all wrapped in one. When it came to telling her about the moment before we departed ways, I became reluctant. But seeing Riley's jaw drop and her eyes grow wider was priceless.

"He likes you!" she squealed.

"No."

"Maya, he likes you!"

"No."

"Maya. He. Likes. You!"

I roll my eyes and scoop up a bite of my mac n cheese. After we had finished our conversation at the Bay Window, Riley had finished up the rest of meal for tonight and I had gone to wake up Jonathan from his sleep but he was too deep in his slumber so I just left him alone. Eventually he'll wake up in the middle of the night for a snack.

"Why can't you see that?" continued Riley. "He's obviously interested in you. Why else would he invite you for coffee? And then that moment? No man would do that to a woman unless he has some sort of intentions behind it."

"Yeah - to get in my pants," I muttered.

" _Good_ _intentions_ ," she corrected then sighed. "How long are you going to avoid this?"

I smiled sweetly. "Not avoiding nothing. I'm just moving on from the thing that happened between me and Lucas. Life sure has."

Riley smiled knowingly. "So you admit there was a thing between you guys?"

I point a finger at her with a stern face. "Don't you dare bring out that she-devil of a journalist in you and use it on me," I warned before I went back to my meal.

Unfortunately, I couldn't have a second of peace to enjoy the cheesy goodness because Riley had leaned across the counter with her lips puckered and made smooching noises. I drop my fork in the bowl and glowered at her as she sat back on her stool with a pleased smile that I desire so much to smack off her face.

"I know what it was," I remarked. "You don't have to fish-face me."

Of course, Riley is the kind of girl who is bold - and somewhat idiotic - enough to push my buttons. With the smile still in place, she pressed her hands against her cheeks, pushing her lips out in a comical manner, and made more of those smooching noises.

"There wasn't a kiss!" I yelled.

"But you guys almost kissed or were about to," she countered.

"But there wasn't and there wasn't going to be one."

"But there was something there, Maya."

"There was nothing there, Riley," I sighed. "He just...touched my face and stared at my mouth real close," I finished awkwardly. Hearing myself say that just made the whole thing sound weird.

Riley also seemed confused about it but there was a glimpse of curiosity in her eyes. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she leaned across the counter again and grabbed my head with both hands, pulling me close to her face until the tip of our noses bumped. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion of her actions but she didn't seem fazed by this.

"Y-yeah, just like that, yeah," I stuttered.

She released my head and I sat back as I watched her lean against the counter with her elbows and cup her cheeks with her palms, her curiosity growing tenfold within her squinted cocoa brown eyes.

"That's a good move," she noted.

"I didn't hate it," I said before I realized it. _Nice move, Hunter._

"Let's discuss!" she insisted excitedly.

"Let's not," I said while stabbing the macaroni. "Other things are happening. Life had gotten over this."

Riley sighed and reached for the bottle of ketchup nearby, popping the cap open. I stifle a gag and shook my head.

"If you pour ketchup on that mac n cheese, I - I -" I felt the bile threaten to rise up as Riley ignored him entirely and squirted a thousand layers of rich red ketchup over her meal until I could no longer see the golden yellow cheese. I had to look away or else I would risk seeing my breakfast a second time around. " - will never forgive you," I finished in a low voice.

Riley closed the bottle and started to mix the ketchup with her macaroni. She was unnerved by all of this. I don't know if it's because that's the way she is or if it's because she's not human.

"Life isn't over it, Maya," she went on. I wasn't paying attention at this point; I was too busy trying not to gag as she took bites of her food. "He touched your face - you went on a coffee date - you saved him from being trampled by a bicyclist." An appreciative expression glowed on her face. "That's a good move."

"Ehh," I shrugged nonchalantly and shoveled a large scoop of food into my mouth, hoping the taste of delicious cheese will distract me from this conversation and the horrid monstrosity Riley made with her food.

"Now where are you guys heading? Life wants to know, Maya. Life wants to know right now."

"No, it doesn't."

"It does," she urged. She dropped her fork and spread out her arms. "Look around - nothing's happening. Do you want to live life like this?"

I glanced around the apartment and shrugged again. "Seems fine to me."

Riley frowned. "Maya. Until we talk about...your _moment_...nothing is ever happening again."

"Then we finally agree on something," I answered casually.

"Wait, what?" She soon gasped in astonishment. "No, I didn't mean that!"

I was already carrying my bowl of macaroni and cheese to the living room, smiling in triumph, as she rambled on about me tricking her into agreement again. It's always funny whenever I manage to. I reach for the remote, turn on the TV, and cross my legs over the coffee table as I watched the rerun episode of Impractical Jokers. But my moment was short-lived as a book suddenly dropped on my lap, left open on a page of my old high school drama club.

"Get this freak show out of my sight," I commanded bluntly.

"Don't you find it odd that neither of us remember him but we went to school with him?" she questioned. She reached around me to hold up the yearbook, blocking me of the comedy show, and cursing me with the view of my undeveloped self.

"I don't even remember our classmate's names," I grumbled. "What makes you think I'll remember some Lone Star?"

"Do you think he remembers us?" she kept on.

"Probably," I said, recalling that he was able to remember of my interview with him.

"He doesn't seem so," she remarked. "When we talked, he never mentioned a memory of us and he acts like he never met us before."

"That's because we never did until now. Unfortunately."

"Not that we know of. We must have interacted with him at some point."

"And what difference would that make now?"

I push the book above my head so I could watch the show and continued to eat. Riley jumped over the couch, and rolled until her head was on my lap while she hovered the book over her face. I tilt my head up to keep my eyes on the TV.

"Aren't you a little bit curious? I mean, it's really bizarre that he's the top of a large company where he needs to have good memory in order to remember important things from meetings, stocks, and other things that keeps a business companies running. Even if we didn't hang out with him once, he must remember all those crazy times we had. We did do some pretty weird shenanigans back then."

"You mean _I_ did - I would have to use Ring Power on you to unfold your hands and even that didn't last long," I pointed out. "And who says shenanigans anymore? Just say shit."

"You know I don't have a potty mouth like you do, Peaches." She sat upright and crossed her legs while staring at me. "Let's not change the topic - we really need to talk about this."

I groaned. "Just let it go already, Riles. There's nothing to talk about."

Riley frowned then stood up while slamming the yearbook shut. "Bay Window. Bay Window, right now."

"We just got back from the Bay Window. And I'm eating. Eating means me time."

Riley shocked me by grabbing my bowl out of my hands and walked back to the kitchen to place it in the sink, poured water into it from the faucet, before coming back to stand in front of me while looking at me expectantly with her hands on her hips.

"You did not just do that," I said slowly, lowly.

"You're upset," she stated as she turned to head over to the Bay Window and sat down. I immediately followed her and sat beside her with my arms crossed.

"Of course I'm upset, Riles, because you won't let go of the whole thing," I retorted. "I tell you these things because you're my best friend who I trust with any secret I have, not so you could try to fix them."

"You know how I am. How can you expect me to try not to fix them when you tell me?"

"I don't," I replied. "But I do expect you to understand."

"I do understand. That's why we need to talk about this. You can't keep living your life in fear of men or you scaring them away. I don't want you to let your past take over your future."

"You make it sound like there is one for me and that cowboy."

"There could be."

"But there isn't."

"Maya," she sighed deeply. "You remember that terrible fight we had years ago? The one when I tricked you and got Uncle Shawn to meet your mother?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember what you told me?"

"No, Riley," I shook my head. "I was so angry at you at that time that I barely remember half of the things I said. I was too occupied picturing you without a head."

"Eek." Riley shuffled a bit farther from me with a fearful face but then it soften into one of compassion. "Well, I remember. You said that people get upset with each other when what they're talking about is important to them." She reached towards my hand and interlocked our fingers. "What we're talking about is clearly important to you and to me. Because you're upset."

"Yes! Because you won't let it go!"

"No, Peaches," she said. "You say I won't let it go but you won't either. You keep saying let it go but you're still here talking to me about it. If you really wanted me to let it go, you would have locked yourself in your room and call it a night."

"Jon in sleeping in my room," I breathed out. I couldn't explain that her words had left me without air. It was like hearing them alleviate what was held up inside me and I didn't know until I heard her say that. She was right. I would have done that but yet I'm still here discussing her about it.

"That doesn't matter - you would have done anything to get away from me, to get away from this conversation, if you didn't want to hear about it."

I sighed and slumped back into the window. Riley scoots closer to me, our sides pressed together, and wrapped her arms around me whilst I laid my head on the crook of her neck.

"Maya, I know what happened with you and your -"

"Don't," I demanded firmly. "Just don't. I don't ever want to talk about it again."

"Okay," she paused for a minute. "But you do understand why I'm doing all of this, right?"

I nodded. "I do, Riley. Believe me, I do. But you also have to understand that these things can't be forced on me. I don't like being pushed into something I'm not comfortable with. Especially with a man. It has to come naturally."

"Like it did with Josh."

"Yeah...like it did with Josh. And that didn't even work out either."

"No, it didn't," she said. "And as much as I wanted you to be an official Matthews, maybe Josh wasn't the guy for you no matter how much you loved each other."

"And you think Heehaw is the one for me?" I snorted.

"He could be if you gave it a chance," she answered calmly. "And if he's not the one then the next man to come into your life could be. You just have to try and find it."

I lift my head up and looked at her. "How is it possible that you can still have hope for me?"

"Hey, I have hope for Pluto still being a planet and that's four-billion miles away." She brings one hand up to brush back a strand of my hair behind my ear, smiling softly at me all the while. "You...have always been right here. And I also believe that you also have hope in yourself to go against your fear and live a long, happy life with someone by your side."

"I want you to always be by my side," I told her truthfully because it's true. She is part of my heart that I could not bear to lose, let alone be without. If I had to decide who I would want to be standing next to me as I'm laying on my deathbed and taking my final breath, I would always want Riley to be the one there holding my hand.

"Always," she smiled. "But it couldn't hurt to have another person standing on the other side, too. Remember; dream dreams, Maya. Everything that is meant to be in your life - every person - every family - every friend - is coming your way so...you might as well meet them halfway."

I licked my lips. "I'll think about it."

"That's a start."

I place my head back on her shoulder again as she embraced me warmly, rubbing my shoulders in a comforting manner. We sat there at the Bay Window in silence, listening to the sound of rushing cars, faint honking horns, the people in the hallway having a ball, and our heartbeats. It was peaceful and simple. Until Riley spoke again.

"Are you still angry at me?" she asked hesitantly.

 _Oh yeah_. I grinned. "I'll think about it - _yes!_ "

I locked my arms around her waist then tossed her across the room and onto the couch. I straddled her back to keep her from getting up and press her head down against the cushions as she flared her arms and legs around whilst her yelled out muffled pleas.

"Never touch my food!" I laughed.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to revel in the moment when a knock came from the door and I moaned in displeasure as I climb off of Riley, much to her relief. She shot her head up with a gasp for air and glared at me. I smiled sweetly before I hopped over the couch and walked over to the door.

"Whaddaya want?" I asked with a scoff after I opened the door, revealing the dorky grin of Charlie Gardner.

"Is that any way to greet someone who comes bearing gifts?" he teased while holding up a to-go bag of Cosme. I eyed it hungrily but kept my composure solid. Though, my mind did go back to my soiled macaroni and cheese sitting in the sink.

"I prefer Paco's Tacos," I said. "They're more natural."

"You prefer anything Mexican in general."

"Maya, let Charlie in," said Riley behind me from the living room.

I grumbled under my breath as I stood aside to let him enter and closed the door.

"What happened to you?" he asked Riley. "Your face is all flushed."

"Maya was in the middle of murdering me for taking away her food," Riley answered like it was the most normal thing in the world. Which, it kind of is with us.

Charlie grimaced. "Ooh, bad move."

I narrowed my eyes at him as he sat down next to Riley a little too closely and placed the bag on the coffee table. I went to sit on the armrest.

"What are you doing here, Gardner?" I asked.

Charlie shrugged. "I was in the neighborhood visiting my mom and sisters. Your place was close by the restaurant so I figure I pop in real quick. I don't see any harm in that."

"Maya is just a bit cranky of what I did," Riley said.

"Among other things," I added.

"Oh!" Riley jumped. "Your interview with Coppola! How'd it go? Did you get the job?"

"I don't know," he said bluntly. "Okay, I guess."

"Just okay?" Riley was in disbelief. "It can't just be okay! You've been excited for this since you told us! It has to be more than okay!"

"I'm just not getting my hopes up in it."

Riley's face fell. "Was it so bad?"

"It was so bad…" Suddenly Charlie's face lit up. "...for all the others who didn't get the job because I got it!"

"Yaaaaay!" Riley cheered happily. She jumps onto Charlie, wrapping her arms his neck. "I knew you could do it! This is so exciting!"

"T-thanks," stuttered Charlie, his face a dark red color now. He looked like he was contemplating where to put his hands but he stopped himself when he saw the dark look I was giving him and opted to just keeping his hands on his sides. _Good boy_.

I reached for the bag and rummaged through it. "So what now? You're gonna go all Hollywood on us, Mr. Bigshot?"

Riley pulled away with a sadden expression. "Oh, that's right. Coppola doesn't live in New York. He's all the way in California."

Charlie nodded. "Yeah…"

Riley bit her lip. "Does that mean you're gonna live out there too?"

"It might be a possibility," Charlie sighed. "Mr. Coppola said he'll contact me as soon as he got the details together. He needed to hire someone right away before he got things ready. Considering he lives in California, he might be getting a place ready for me and maybe even a car. So probably after graduation, I'll be heading out there."

"Oh," Riley formed a forced smile. "If you do move then I'm gonna miss you, Charlie. I am happy that you're getting closer to making your dream as a filmmaker come true. We're both proud, aren't we, Maya?"

"Sure." I was barely paying attention; I was busy devouring a delicious meal. I don't know what it was but I can definitely taste crabs and tomatoes.

"C'mon, you know you're gonna miss me when I'm gone, Maya," Charlie grinned.

"Not when you're quoting songs like that, Gardner," I smirked. "I'm kidding. I'm gonna miss you when you leave. Somewhat."

Charlie smiled kindly.

And I will miss him. Even though I wasn't really that close to him, his company really was nice to have around when I wanted it. He was the closest thing I had anchoring me to the good old middle school days where I would trip fire alarms and stand on teacher's desk so to know the possibility of him officially moving away after his last year in college was actually a bit hurtful. He is a good guy, a genuine one, who I wouldn't minded to have dated Riley if she gave him the chance, and could have easy conversations if they were interesting.

"I actually did come here to see if maybe you girls wanted to go out after finals," he insisted. "You know as a celebration to finally finishing school and all."

"Oh! You know what we should do?"

"No!" I said immediately.

Riley gaped at me. "You don't even know what I was going to say!"

"I can already see the gears in your head turning and I say no - no parties!"

"Fine," Riley huffed with a pout. "No parties." Then she grinned widely. "But you know what we should have?"

"I don't wanna know." I pulled out the bottle of sherry and popped the top before I started to take huge gulps. I know what is going through her head and I cannot be sober to handle the work I have to put it afterwards. I slide down onto Charlie's side because my backside was beginning to ache.

Riley dramatically stands up. "We should have a ball," she declared in a proper accent. "But not just any ball, no, no. A grand ball. Which is essential to the many occasions that are taking place, my dear Maya. A graduation ball where we invite the eligible gentlemen of good breeding and discipline, and the elegant women of proper manner and class."

"Thanks a lot, Charlie Gardner," I said in an exaggerated 1970's voice. "Now we gotta get things sorted out for a night out to the clubs."

"Ball!" Riley corrected.

"America!" I countered.

"Well," Charlie chuckled as he rose up, smiling affectionately at Riley. "Are you going to save me a dance at this grand ball?"

"Well, Mr. Gardner," she started again with the accent. "You are an excellent standing and well-regarded in the village."

If humanly possible, Charlie's smile grew tender. He amuses Riley by taking a flourish bow like those princes do in the fairytale movies and Riley smiled brightly as she returned the bow with her head tilted low and her arms out as if she's holding the skirt of a dress like a princess. I rolled my eyes at the two.

"You a lotta work," I said.

Charlie and Riley shared a glance then laughed giddily. I just smiled at the two, shaking my head, and took another swing of sherry from the bottle.

* * *

Later that night, after Charlie left, I went to shower and change into my pajamas. Riley was already closed up in her room, trying to trick me into thinking she was asleep, when she was actually working on her final publication for her article. I didn't bother her, knowing she was way into her work to even hear me. She is a lot like her mother. I checked on Jonathan to see he was still fully asleep and mumbling. I measured his temperature and refilled his glass with cold water before I kissed him goodnight then left the room.

I was going to shut off the lamp when my eyes stopped on my cell phone and I contemplated on my desires as my conversation with Riley played in my head. That little device was actually the barrier between feeding my barely restrained hunger and keeping my sanity intact. All I had to do was dial up his number but that literally screamed desperation. Even if I did reach out to him, what am I going to say? _I'm sorry for blowing you off because I got intimate issues?_ Yeah, that is a nice conversation to fall asleep to.

Not wanting to strain my thoughts any longer, I tossed that idea aside as I flicked the lights off and crawled under the covers. It isn't until I drop my head on the pillow that I realized my mind was too actives with running thoughts and the urge to sleep had suddenly dissipated. I kept going back to the whole _'I just don't do the whole relationship thing_ ' quote, and I hated myself with a strong passion for allowing myself to even consider taking a chance with the man. Normally, a guy would try to get close to me in order to seduce me but Lucas was very straightforward with his mind. He said it then and there. He wasn't interested in me like Riley said he was.

I turned to my side and fold my arm under his head. Then again, why did he seem so torn when I left? He looked like a wounded puppy. And there was that one moment that I honestly cannot forget even if I tried. Then those eyes. I brought my hand up to my mouth, lightly grazing my fingertips on my lips. The way he looked at them. It was like a casual glance. They were lingering. There was a glimpse of longing in there, almost like he was hungry to taste them, and he was fighting with himself to not give into his inner struggle.

I couldn't explain that. I couldn't understand Lucas in general. One minute, he is giving me clear signs of wanting to know me and when he finally gets the chance, he shuts me out. He is so complex. I am beginning to think he has a multiple personality disorder because he could be a cordial guy with a sense of humor, kind of like an open person, and then he closes himself up, becomes a cold, distant person who wants nothing to do with society. Either that or he's bipolar. He must have something because he is anything but normal.

 _Maybe he's celibate?_ I scoffed at that thought. _As if. There's no way a guy like him with a life like his could possibly be a virgin. He probably has women throwing themselves at him left and right, and he might have taken advantage on a couple of them._

That was the last thing my sleepy subconscious said before my eyes drooped close and I drifted off into a nice slumber.

That night, my dreams were consumed with leafy patterns in milk and the greenest eyes to ever exist, and I'm drawn towards them like a mindless prey. I don't know if I should be afraid of it or thrilled.

* * *

The next morning, I felt myself being shaken away and I shot up with a gasp. I glance around quickly before my eyes landed on Jonathan, who was wrapped around in a quilt, still dressed in his pajamas, eyes barely focused, and hair tousled. There was a line of dried drool on the side of his face that I took the liberty to wipe off with my thumb.

Judging by the lighting in the room, the sun was barely up. It was way too early and I was too sleepy for any charades Jonathan was to play with. But he didn't looked like he was in the mood for anything mischievous as he is trying to keep himself standing straight, slightly swaying to the sides, and yawned cutely.

"What's up, Jon?" I asked tiredly while rubbing my eyes. "You need anything?"

"I want milk," he murmured.

"I left you a glass of water in the room."

"But I want milk."

I sighed and drop my head down on my pillows again while closing my eyes. "You know where the milk is. The glasses are where they always are."

I could hear Jonathan grumbling as he walked away. I breathed slowly, hoping that sleep would take over me again, but I knew it was futile the moment my eyes touched the light. Ever since I was a little girl, the sight of light would instantly wake me up even if my mind wasn't with me and I could never go back to sleep. It was a horrid habit. My mother was worried about me and had me checked by a doctor but was later learned that it was common for people to not want to sleep once they wake up. I guess I'm lucky?

Nevertheless, I didn't open my eyes again and just laid there enjoying the calm of an early morning. Even when I heard Jonathan approach me, loudly sipping on his milk, I didn't react to it as I relaxed.

"Why are you dirty, sis?" he asked; that made me open my eyes and look at him oddly.

"What're talkin' 'bout, munchkin?" I slurred.

Jonathan raised a brow. "You're covered in paint."

I blinked in confusion then glance down at my hands only to stifle a gasp once I see them coated in dried paint. I quickly shot up onto my feet and looked down at my body; there were smudges of light brown, green, white, and yellow painted on almost every inch of my body, soiling my pajamas.

"What the…?" I trailed off.

"Did you and Aunt Riley have a paint fight again?" asked Jonathan.

"No."

"So why are you painted?"

"I don't know."

I look around me; the whole living room was a disaster. Containers of paint was scattered everywhere and opened. Multiple paint brushes covered in the same colors as the ones on me were thrown across the room, staining some of the furniture. Several cups of tainted water were placed on any surface in sight. And my smock was rumpled on top of kitchen sink. How did that get there?

"I don't remember," I mumbled to myself.

"Are we gonna go to the arcade today?" Jonathan inquired.

"Uh...y-yeah, yeah, bud," I said, still a bit in shock at the state of the place. "After we have breakfast and clean up, we'll go. But we can't stay there all day. We gotta pack you up and drop you off at the Matthews later."

Jonathan pouted. "Do I have to go back? Why can't I stay here with you?"

I frowned. "Because I won't be able to take care of you as well as they do. I work long hours and have a lot of school work. Plus they live closer to your school than here." I place my arm around his shoulder. "Believe me, I would love for you to stay here with me but wait until summer is here. Riley and I will be done with school by then so you can stay here as much as you want. I'll switch for morning shifts so I could come home early and spend the rest of the day with you. That sound cool?"

With a tiny smile, Jonathan smiled. "And dad will be home too."

I nodded. "Yes, dad will be home too."

Then, to my unbelievable luck, the door to Riley's room swung open and she trudged out wearing her pink pajamas. She was yawning adorably while rubbing the grogginess out of her eyes and her hair could be mistaken for Mufasa, seeing it was sticking out everywhere. She was unknowingly wobbling towards us, too caught up in the remains of her sleep, until she accidentally stubbed her small toe against the leg of the coffee table.

"Ouch!" she winced.

"Watch out, there's a table there," I said sarcastically, making Jonathan giggle.

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled, hissing a little in pain. "What are you guys doing up so early?"

Jonathan held up glass of milk and took a sip for emphasis. Riley smiled fondly at him and lightly patted his ruffled head, combing her fingers through his hair like the way she use to with her little brother, Auggie.

"I guess that makes sense," she said before she looked at me and blinked in surprise. "But what happened to _you_?"

I shrugged. "I'm still trying to figure that out." I looked around the room. "I woke up to this mess."

That was when Riley finally took notice of the state of the living room and squeaked out a quick yelp as she covered her mouth with her hands in shock. I bite my lip to prevent myself from giggling.

It is funny in a way. We both claim to be adults - I mean, we are - yet the people in this building consider us as children despite the both of us having jobs and studying for our desired careers but, if one would look around the apartment, they would think we were a couple of unsupervised children. The vibe of ease and no control was everywhere.

I went sheepish when Riley turned to me and her eyebrows furrowed as she scrutinized me, most likely taking in my painted appearance. I gave her an uncertain grin, trying to seem innocent and vulnerable but I knew otherwise. I am so used to Riley being so active and always in a cheerful mood that when she is suddenly quiet and calm, I get nervous because that is the only way I know she is close to exploding like a volcano. It's rare but when those times come, I usually duck for cover until her tirade is over.

It doesn't help that she inherited her mother's controlling habits and grew up as a perfectionist. If one thing is out of place, she will have an episode and hyperventilate so I could only image how many bolts are falling out of place in her mind right now with her seeing the mess that points directly to me because of me.

"Maya…" she started slowly in a monotone voice.

I gulped. "Yes, sweetie?"

"Please tell me that I am still asleep and that was I'm seeing right now is all a dream," she said.

"Uh...yeah...yeah, this is all a dream. You're dreaming, honey." I get up and slowly walk up to her to turn her around by the shoulders then gently shove her towards her room. "Why don't you go back to bed and wake up a couple of hours later? And I promise when you wake up, everything's the same way it was last night."

"Yeah, I think I'll do that." Riley paused, her back still towards me. "But...Peaches?"

"Yes?"

"My toe hurts. A lot." She peered back at me over her shoulder. Oh no. "I'm not dreaming, am I?"

I swallowed hard. _Well fuck. So close._

* * *

I was already taking out my clothes for the day from my crooked dresser and grabbed my bag of toiletries. I don't want any possible roaches or roaming rats to touch what I use to clean my mouth. I was about to head to the bathroom - I didn't want to see the broken glasses - when I halted at the sound of my phone vibrating. I looked at the screen and nearly choked on air as I read the name Uncle Boing on it. With a racing heart and trembling fingers, I opened the message.

 **Josh:** _Hey, are you doing anything today?_

I shuddered. But not in the way that I usually do when I'm around it. For some reason, I felt a bit out of the ordinary seeing his name appear on the screen of my phone. I don't know if it's because I haven't seen it for nearly over a year or if because I am still shaken by the mess in the living room that I am forced to clean up. Nevertheless, I typed in a quick response.

 **Sent:** _I'm hanging out with Jon today._

His reply came in quick.

 **Josh:** _You're heading to the usual arcade today?_

 **Sent:** _Yeah. The usual._

 **Josh:** _Would it be fine if I tagged along? Mikey brought Ophelia in last night and it was a nightmare. I don't wanna relive it again._

My eyebrows shot up. Wow, Ophelia is quick.

 **Sent:** _Sorry to hear about your torture. But you know weekends are for Jon and I. He loves you but I don't think he'll like having a third person over._

 **Josh:** _I had a feeling. Well I'll head over to my brother's then. I'll see you there? :)_

I sighed and shook my head. He is clearly trying to get close to me again. Josh is a smart guy but he lacks willpower sometimes. He obviously cannot keep his end of the promise to talk to me after graduation. A part of me finds it adorable - I always enjoyed seeing his dorky side come into the light - but the other half of me was a little annoyed - I have a lot on my plate right now and I don't think having any relationship drama is needed.

 **Sent:** _Maybe._

I placed my phone on the dresser and left quickly to the bathroom even when I heard it vibrating against the wood. The shower was relaxing; feeling the drops of water dripping down my body, soaking away the tension and stress of my morning, and nearly sending me to a slumber standing up but I was awaken when the hot water turned frigid. After toweling myself dry, I dressed up in my clothes and blow-dried my hair back into full volume.

I was going to leave the room when I noticed a familiar object from the corner of my eye. Sitting on the single chair by the window was the novel that Luis lend me that one night. The title, _The Perks of Being A Wallflower_ , sparkled into my eye under the light of the morning sun. I remembered his words; _It really does change your perspective in how you see things in life. The way how you look at other people won't be the same again_. I thought he was only speaking nonsense because he was old but thinking back of his words now after my breakdown from last night, I am considering that maybe he wasn't being a crazy old man. Perhaps he does read books because they make him wonder about life and think about the possibility of nature.

I took the book from the chair and stared at it, contemplating. I chose to shove it in my bag just in case I come to a decision with it afterwards.

I later went out to the ruined living room and peeked over at the kitchen. I smiled happily. They were by the stove with Jonathan standing on a stool and stirring something in a skillet while Riley stood behind him, giving him instructions on how to cook their breakfast. Jonathan would jump and giggle whenever the butter would pop and Riley would wipe it off his arm with a rag.

I always thought Riley would be an excellent mother one day. The way how she was with her younger brother, Auggie, and how she treats Jonathan was very loving, caring, and sweet just like a parent would be to their child. She has that type of nature in her.

I went over to the Bay Window to collect my sketchbook and color pencils. Sometimes while Jonathan plays, I would like to take a break and refresh my mind with new ideas for a painting. I shoved them in my bag and I was about to head over to the kitchen when I sent a brief glance at the splattered canvas then got paralyzed in shock. I slowly turned to it, not really believing what I saw.

The whole thing was a mess but it was a more charming kind unlike the room. There were many layers of colored splotches here and there, some dabbed on or stroked across the canvas or lightly molded. It looked like it was finger-painted by Riley - only it wasn't purple (I will never understand her obsession with that color or purple cats for that matter) - but as I took a couple of steps back, I recognized the style as Claude Monet's Water Lilies. Only it wasn't of water lilies in a pond created by two-hundred and fifty other paintings; within the chaos, I could see a clear view of a coffee mug with leafy patterns made out of milk and a hand tracing along the rim of the cup but I could not make out the rest of the form as the arm seem to disappear into the disorder.

My eyes look up and a silent gasp escaped me.

I couldn't see anything else but I'd be a fool if I told myself that I do not see a pair of painfully green eyes staring back at me with such power that has my knees shaking.

* * *

Luckily, I didn't have to go through the torture of Riley's wrath as long as I thought I would. Riley needed to go back to campus to get the new editions printed for publishing tomorrow and later had to go to work. I never knew that being an adult could save me.

The unfortunate side of it all was that I had to leave the apartment with a ringing ear, smelling like all sorts of cleaning chemicals, and had to wear a cap for the remainder of the way as the shower did not wash away all of the paint in my hair. I needed to give myself credit for keeping the old baseball cap that I used to wear during my baseball years as a small piece of memory - that was smart.

After parting ways with Riley at the subway, Jonathan and I made our way to Chinatown to spend a day at the Chinatown Fair Family Fun Center. It is an old arcade that I used to go to as a child with a group of other rebels I hung out with prior to meeting Riley. It was a bit of an old hangout for social outcasts and other disliked groups of the neighborhood. I had stopped going to the arcade a year before it was shut down but a couple of years after it was reopened, I started to visit the place as frequently as I could with Jonathan during the weekends.

The owner, Lonnie Sobel, already recognizes me as soon as I enter the place and would allow me to stay longer while she goes through closing procedures. She grew very fond of Jonathan, stating that he is a funny and respectful child for his age. She would have a bag of freshly home baked cookies for us since she knew she was going to see us on Sundays. It was like a tradition to end our time with sugar and mindless video games.

Jonathan was hopping all around eagerly as we neared the place. For a kid who was born in the now, he was very into the then. He'd rather go to the arcade and spend all the coins in his pocket than be at home with his game console. I guess that is the Shawn in him who comes out. I don't mind - at least I don't have to worry about him being a social loner like I once was.

"I'm gonna play Guitar Hero - and skee ball - and Jurassic Park - and Barrel of Monkeys - Space Invaders!" he exclaimed. "And I'm gonna beat all the high scores!"

I snickered. "You already got the high scores in those. I think your name is on all the games, _PowerBruh22_."

"Not all of them," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I still didn't beat the basketball game and Dance Dance Revolution. Some guy named _DeezPunk700_ is beating me all the time. Two weeks, I got forty-nine shots in the basketball game and last week he got a higher score - fifty-five shots! And on Dance Dance Revolution, I scored a thousand and twenty points and last week he got higher than me by three points - I gotta beat him!"

I rolled my eyes. "It's not a big deal, dork."

Jonathan stuck her tongue out at me and I gave him a light tap on the head.

"You better not use up all my money just for those games," I said. "If this guy keeps on beating your scores then you shouldn't waste any more money on them. You already marked the rest of the arcade so what's the point of not claiming two games?"

"It's a pride thing," he responded with a shrug.

I barked out a laugh as I wrapped an arm around his neck and dug my knuckles into his head, making him whine and squirm.

"And what do you know about pride, little brother?" I teased. "You barely have any.'

"That's not true!"

I released my hold around him once I realized we were close to the arcade and giggled a little as he gave me a light shove that barely moved me. I reached into my small backpack and pulled out the bag of coins I saved for Jonathan then handed them to him, smiling softly at his low yell of elation as he clutched onto the bag and hopped around excitedly.

"Welcome back, losers," said a gruff voice.

I rolled my eyes with a smile and turned around to see Brandon coming out of the arcade with a cigarette caught between his lips and a smirk.

"Brandon, you're here!" said Jonathan. He sprints up to him and Brandon catched him in his arms. "I got a lot of quarters this time! We can play more games!"

"That's cool," Brandon replied. "Still trying to beat those high scores, huh?"

"Yeah. Maya doesn't get it."

"She's not much of a gamer so she'll never understand."

"I know, right?"

"Maya is still standing here, you goofs," I intruded. "Get in there and play, Jon, before I change my mind and take away your quarters."

Jonathan immediately wiggled his way out of Brandon's grasp and raced into the store without hesitation, the sound of the coins jiggling along with his movements. I walked up to Brandon and plucked the cigarette out of his mouth before dropping it on the ground then stomping on it.

"I was gonna smoke that," he stated with a deep frown. He made a move to pull out his pack but I held his arm before he could.

"I'm not one for smoking and I got no problem with you damaging your lungs but my little brother is here," I reminded. "You know he loves to copy thing that he thinks is cool and if my dad ever finds him smoking one day, he'll have my head."

Brandon sighed. "Noted. Only because I actually like the little tyke."

"Thanks." I crossed my arms. "But what are you doing here?"

"Waiting on a delivery." He leaned back against the wall. "I found some of the parts I needed for Chevy I told you about. Took a lot of hours searching the web but turns out there's a guy who sells at an illegal underground shop around for some good prices. A local tipped me off on it. I met him sometime last week and he's coming around soon with my order."

"Sounds like a scam."

"The whole thing was negotiable. The deal was I get the parts by today and do a couple of test runs with it to see if there's anything out of the ordinary. If it doesn't live up to my standards, no payment. I think the guy is smart enough to not fuck with my order because it's over a grand I'm paying him for."

"And what does he do that makes his shop illegal?"

"He makes the parts of any car built and sells them at a reasonable price compared to most shops. His customers could have the option to put a specific brand on the parts to make it seem like they got it from that store and show it off. It's kind of like pirated movies; if the law finds him then he'll be facing double the sentence of bootleg movies considering he is stealing the brand of popular companies. Plus his shop is unauthorized - he doesn't have a permit on it so I saw he'll be facing twenty-five years in prison, tops, if he's caught."

"And you're buying from this guy? You know if you get caught by the police then you're gonna get busted. You'd be buying a stolen brand."

Brandon smirked. "I'm not stupid - I didn't ask for a brand on my parts. Strictly bare. The owner of the Chevy will be so focused on the appear that he won't think about asking. So calm down, Hunter, I know what I'm doing."

I held up my hands in surrender. "Alright. But I better not be getting a call from you at two or three something in the morning asking me to bail you out when your place gets raided."

"Cute," he chuckled as he pushed himself off the wall. "I'm gonna go and play some more. The guy won't be here for another hour."

"Can you let Jon beat your high scores for once?" I pleaded. "He's annoying when he's competitive."

"And that's what makes it fun for me."

I narrowed my eyes at him as he turned away and entered the building, laughing amusingly. I grumbled under my breath, basically wishing he would be sent down to the fiery pits of Hades, before I reluctantly followed him inside and prepared myself for the long hours of listening to my baby brother boast and cry about Brandon's unbeatable streaks.

At least I'll have cookies to look forward to.

* * *

 **Please Review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** I do not own Girl Meets World, the characters, the locations, the songs, or the quotes mentioned. But I do own the plot.

Sorry for my absence. I've been going through a crisis that I just recently got out of. I hope you can forgive me for this late update.

* * *

 _Sometimes I want to take you down_

 _Sometimes I want to get you low_

 _Brush your hair back from your eyes_

 _Take you down let the river flow_

 _Sometimes I go and walk the street_

 _Behind the green sheet of glass_

 _A million miles below their feet_

 _A million miles, a million miles_

\- Low; Cracker

* * *

 _"Mysteries of attraction could not always be explained through logic. Sometimes the fractures in two separate souls became the very hinges that held them together."_

― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter

* * *

 **Chapter Six: Night Knight**

We left the arcade around eight.

It took me a while to pull Jonathan away from the games because he was too obsessed in beating the highest score. Luckily, Brandon had decided to stay after he got his package from his dealer and helped me carry Jonathan out of the arcade building. Lonnie had given me a small bag of sugar cookies on our way out and to my relief because it was made it easier to convince Jonathan to leave.

We went back to my apartment to pack up the rest of his clothes and later made our way over to the Matthew's. I was conflicted heading over there. Of course, I love visiting the family who took me in and helped guide me away from a path where I could have ended rock bottom but a huge portion of me knew that Josh is most likely there. I didn't hate him; my feelings for him were still wandering about. I just didn't feel like having a confrontation with him about us possibly getting back together or go through another round of awkwardness with him obviously flirting with me.

I was grateful that Brandon was accompanying us. He was like a breath of fresh air with his arrogant comments that amuse me and playful behavior towards my little brother keeps me at ease since Jonathan's laughter is a nice little distraction. Right now, watching Jonathan attempt to perform the same moves as Brandon over the rails and poles, I was able to sit back and relax as the jolting vibrations of the subway cart massaged my backside. I had my arm slung over Jonathan's luggage and Brandon's package as a cautious act. I know some people enjoy to pick-pocket when they could.

There wasn't much to do in the subway. Unfortunately, we got the cart where it is filled. There were many kinds of people here of all races from the Hispanics to the Asians to the Europeans and many more. They're not bad people. They're actually great with their stories of their cultures and rich heritages but they're still strangers to me and I don't really get along with strangers. I barely get along with the people I know now.

I decided to bring out my sketchbook and idly paint a random picture that goes along with whatever mood I am in. Which was boredom. So my page was soon covered in scribbles and dark shades in random spots. Sometimes the jolt of the cart would send me off course but I'd quickly clean it off by rubbing it out with my finger and lightly erasing it. Once in a while, I would glance up to see Jonathan and Brandon still being a bunch of monkeys on the rails and poles, their behavior not being a bother by the other passengers. Although, beside me, I could see a young man pointing his phone at them and when he lowered it, he looked like he was typing.

 _Snapchat addict_. I narrowed my eyes at him. Just as he was going to post it, I quickly snatched his phone out of his hands and deleted it before I tossed the phone back on his lap.

"Yo, what the fuck?" he asked angrily as I went back to my sketchbook.

"Shouldn't film little kids, you ass," I said bluntly.

"And who said you could take my phone, bitch?"

"Nobody. And who said you could record my little brother, asshole?"

He looked like he was ready to talk back but I glared at him and he closed his mouth, though, his face was still scrunched up in irritation. He stared at me for a couple of minutes before he clicked his tongue and stood up to walk away. I hummed in gratification then continued to sketch.

The ride lasted a couple of minutes longer before our stop came and we left the undergrounds, with me holding on to Jonathan's hand the whole time as he talked nonstop to Brandon. I could tell he was uninterested with my little brother's schoolyard stories but he would keep up the act to please Jonathan because, despite his reputation and personality, he has a soft spot towards Jonathan. I guess it has to do with the fact that he is an only child and never got the chance to harass a younger sibling so Jonathan was the closest he has. He had admitted one time, during my mother's pregnancy, that he was envious of me finally being a big sister since he always wanted to be a big brother.

I pursed my lips. I don't really blame him for feeling a little bit a jealousy of my relationship with Jonathan. Brandon and I did come from a similar background of living a lonesome life but, unlike Brandon, I actually had a chance to have a young sibling whenever my mother and Shawn decided to have one - Brandon didn't. His mother had a miscarriage and his father had died of leukemia two years later before they had a chance to try again. His mother then became an alcoholic and would disappear in the middle of the night only to return the next morning wearing the same clothes. Brandon had tried to help his mother with her addiction but she was no longer in the point of returning to the woman he knew so he worked two jobs until he was able to get his own apartment and move out before he took over his father's mechanic business.

Sometimes I don't know how Brandon is able to survive the way he lived. I would have been driven to insanity if I was in his shoes. But he, somehow, still manage to make a life of his own all during high school. He was the only classmate in my grade who lived alone, worked alone, fed himself, and took care of himself when he is sick. He made it on his own. Even when the school spread rumors of him secretly earning money for sexual needs or that he was involved in doing errands for a drug lord or that he was selling illegal brands beneath the bleachers of the football field, he made it.

I admire him for that.

We reached the apartment building after a few blocks and I went ahead to buzz on the intercom as Brandon kept Jonathan entertained. He tends to get upset whenever I drop him off and it would take me awhile to get him to let go of my leg whenever I take a step out of the door. It wasn't long until I heard Corey's voice ringing through the speaker that I had to lean back away from it.

"Shawn!" his voice screeched, his excitement and hope heard in his words. I smiled a little bitterly because I know he misses his best friend, my father, and is anxious for him to return to safety.

"Maya," I answered.

"Shawn?" he tried again, only a little more deflated this time.

"Aww, what's the matter, Matthews?" I cooed teasingly. "Your boyfriend not here yet?"

" _He's not my boyfriend!_ "

Behind me, I could hear Jonathan tittering and Brandon snort, both sounds making me grin. I press the button again.

"Just let us in, Matthews," I said.

I wanted a couple of minutes before the buzzer was heard and Brandon pulled the door open for us to enter the main foyer. This apartment building is entirely different from mine and Riley's; this one doesn't have a waiting room or a desk for the landlord. There is only a ATM, a wall covered in rows of previous landlord or employees of the month, a staircase with a red rug, and an elevator. It was simple and understated just like the Matthews.

"You think Matthews will be okay with me around?" Brandon smirked. "He's not particularly fond of me. I doubt he'll want to see some hooligan tainting his humble abode."

I snorted. "If it's like that then he must have really hated me when he fed me and let me sleep in his daughter's bed sometimes. Maybe if you're lucky, he'll have Topanga make a huge roasted chicken for you."

His smirk grew and leaned his head back against the wall while stuffing his hands in his pockets. Jonathan slides down until he is sitting down and started to go through the dufflebag, muttering under his breath as he pushed aside his clothes. I watched him curiously.

"Whatcha doing there, bud?" I asked.

Jonathan didn't answer me; he continued to search through his bag while he spoke quietly to himself. I glance up at the Brandon but he was now stalking some car account on Instagram and liking some photos then I look back down at Jonathan as he cheered lowly. I see him stand up again while holding the stuffed Domo he won with all of his tickets and I stared at him in confusion because he had played so many rounds of video games - and possibly lost a lot of brain cells too - to win that prize.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Take it," he said. "So you won't be alone tonight."

I smiled tenderly at him. I know he doesn't like leaving me like I don't like letting him go and he would normally fight with me to stay with me for a longer time than we get. It is a terrible thing to go through to leave my little brother behind with the people who took care of me, helping him to be raised into a nice young man, as I continued to put my life together and I would lose sleep in the first week because I would wait to see if he would crawl in my arms at night after having a nightmare, but I needed to do it for him.

I promised Shawn that Jonathan is taken care of in any way possible and the best bet is to live with the Matthews.

But, as I see him staring up to me with those big innocent eyes and a sweet smile, holding up the stuffed prize to me, I find myself struggle between the choices of taking him back home with me and letting him stay with the Matthews. I always love having him stay with me because it feels as if we were back from the beginning where I would wake up to find him trying to sneak away with a bowl of my favorite cereal and ended up with me chasing after him or I would force myself to wake up Saturday mornings to watch a new episode of his favorite cartoon show even though I do end up falling asleep later on.

I wanted to go back to those days. Those were the times where I reveled in the sensation of finally being a big sister, a protector, to someone of my own blood, and in return, I'll be showered by his annoying affection or childish antics. It is a work and sometimes wonder as to why I put so much effort in this little human being that causes me to worry too much, but I never find myself to regret him.

"You sure, kiddo?" I questioned.

Without hesitation, Jonathan nodded and held the plushie closer to me. I took it unsurely at first but then he pushed it farther into my arms and I cradled it as if it was him when he was a baby. It must mean a lot more to him than he is showing; Jonathan played a lot of those games repetitively to gain the exact amount of tickets to win it and to have give it to me so willingly, so unexpectedly, I knew he was worried about me.

Jonathan didn't like to see me alone. The days when he would call me or visit me at work, he would ask me if I am okay and I would reassure him that I am fine. I never questioned him - I know he doesn't want me to be alone because of my past, because of my father, and I don't blame him but I don't want him to have to worry over such a thing - he is only a kid after all and I should be the one to take care of that.

"It's gonna be with me every night," I assured him. "I promise."

Jonathan's smile illuminated brighter and he shot forward to tie his arms around my waist while leaning his head against my belly. I comb my fingers through his untamed hair and placed a gentle kiss on the crown of his head, closing my eyes as I inhaled his scent of peppermint.

"You guys are so sweet, I'm getting a cavity," snorted Brandon.

I lift my head to glare at him, a bit agitated by his sardonic smirk, and Jonathan turned around in my arms with a scowl as he crossed his arms in a defensive manner.

"You just ruined a sentimental moment," I retorted.

"You two were being too mushy, you could be mistaken for some rom-com," he said nonchalantly. "And I hate rom-coms. I always throw up when I see them."

Jonathan pouted. "You suck. And you're gross."

"Such big words coming from the snot-eater himself."

"I do not eat boogers!"

I sighed and rolled my eyes. I never get into their discussions of such trivial things. Brandon loves to be an ass and Jonathan is a sucker for falling for his traps of self-entertainment.

Luckily, the elevator stopped on our floor and the doors slid open so I didn't have to be stuck in enclosed walls listening to their bickering. I grab the dufflebag, sling it over my shoulder, and grab Jonathan's hand to drag him with me as I trudged down the hallway even though it didn't seem to make them stop from their bantering.

The door to the Matthew's residence wasn't so far from us; we made it there in record time. Just as I was about to barge in there like I owned the place - they never lock the door or they would unlock it when they know I am on my way - the door that was three doors down from us had opened and I turned to see someone I had grown very fond to over the past couple of years.

She was dressed in a baggy white long-sleeved shirt that ended midway over her thighs with a pair of white polka-dotted shorts and knee-high hello kitty socks. Her golden hair was pulled up in a messy. She was carrying a small trash bag and was scrolling through her phone so she hasn't noticed me yet.

I was very surprised to see her again, considering I haven't been able to visit the apartment building for some time, and it still amazes how much she has changed since her toddler years. She was no longer a little spoiled princess who needed someone to worship the ground she walked on and to be showered with millions of jewelry. She became more humble, her temper was more controlled whenever she didn't get what she wanted, and she was now very compassionate to her closest friends, mainly Auggie.

Her name was Ava Morgenstern. I met her when I was thirteen and she was six. I didn't get along with her at the beginning because I found her squeaky voice to be aggravating and her arrogant behavior to be bothersome. I didn't like how manipulative she was towards Auggie all because she was a year older than him and he was a naive, sweet little boy who would do everything she pleases. I would ignore her existence whenever she visits and sometimes she or I would give each other a snide comment towards the other.

But then, sometimes during my freshmen year, I was reminded once again of my horrid past when Ava started to run into the Matthews residence in tears and babbling about her parents having constant arguments. It reminded me a lot of the times I crawled through Riley's window, begging for her to hold me as I cried my eyes dry from the pain of the nightmares of witnessing my parents go down at each other's throats with vulgarity and insulting each other for their mistakes. The only difference was that Ava's parents were going through financial struggles and she was able to hear her father blame her birth for their problems which made it worse for Ava.

Throughout those times, Ava had leaned more towards me for comfort and guidance since she had heard about my dreadful childhood from the Matthews. She was still the same person except she had a calmer attitude whenever she was in a saucy mood and she was kinder to Topanga with all the times she spent at her home, helping her clean dishes after dinner or bond over scrapbooking, and she was more open towards Auggie whenever he tries to keep her at ease with all the problems of her parents.

Sometime later, the most unforgiven thing has happened to Ava; her father left her and her mother. No note. No warning. He was just gone. Ava became an emotional mess - she wasn't the same girl anymore and it worried me that she would end up too deep in that dungeon of darkness I allowed myself to live in for years. I didn't want to see what other people saw and I didn't want her to live her life full of anger like me.

That was when I started to become protective of her like I am to Riley and Jonathan. I would invite Ava a day out for the two of us, bring her and Auggie to the movies with me and Riley, bring Ava with me to some of my old high school games, to some art shows in my school, take her to the zoo, take her out shopping, and sometimes bring her to Coney Island to spoil her with sugary goodness.

I did everything I could to make sure she was not alone in her home and stay surrounded by the haunting memories of her parents screaming each other and drown herself in the blame of their divorce.

And Ava would take it for granted. She would take up as much of my time as she could when she sees an opportunity to do so whether it is me taking a break from studying or from my job or I was hanging out with Riley in her room. She would ask Topanga if I was coming over and she'd wait for me in the kitchen until she saw me walk through the front door with Riley. She would ask me if I am staying over for the night at the Matthews so she could crawl under my arm and cuddle the night away.

It didn't bother me. It did to Riley sometimes - I think it was because she didn't like being rudely awaken in the middle of the night just so Ava could push her closer to the edge of _her_ bed and occupy the space between us.

Yet neither of us stopped her because we could never be mad at her for her vulnerability.

Ava and I grew closer because we shared an emotional connection about our disappearing fathers but it didn't replace the close bonds we had with Riley and Auggie. We understood each other, are there for each other, encourage each other, and held onto each other but we didn't see the other as a best friend. That title was only reserved for the Matthews siblings.

"Hey, Morgenstern," I called out.

She seemed startled at first, a bit too engrossed in whatever she was on in her phone, but then she immediately relaxed when she turned to me and a beaming smile broke out on her flawless face.

"Maya!"

She grabbed the trash bag and raced towards me like her life depended on it. I had to push off the dufflebag from my shoulder before she hopped onto me, her arms a tight lock around my neck, and I nearly tumbled backwards if it hadn't been for Brandon for putting his arms out. I was quickly to embrace her back with twice the vigor. I had to stand on my toes a little so my face wouldn't get squished by her shoulder - she had grown as tall as Riley did in her age.

"Where you been?" said Ava as she pulled back from me and grabbed my hands. "I haven't seen you in ages! What's up with that, Hunter?"

"Just been busy," I grinned. "How you been?"

Signing, her shoulders slumped and she shook her head. "I've been swamped with finals and projects. I hate it. I'm just a kid for God's sake!"

"Quit your complaining," I scoffed. "Just wait until you're in college then you'll learn what being swamped really is."

"Oh goodie."

Ava then Jonathan glances down at Jonathan and kneels in front of him with her arms held wide open. Jonathan hopped into her welcoming embrace, tightly holding onto her as they rocked lightly to the sides.

"I knew things were too quiet around here," said Ava. "You never get let me get a good sleep with all your obnoxious yelling."

"Hey, that's mean!" said Jonathan with a pout and crossed his arms. "I didn't miss you."

Ava smiled cutely and tapped his nose with her index finger, making him scrunch up his face in annoyance.

"Never said that mattered to me," she retorted.

Jonathan's nostrils flared and his eyes darkened slightly before he turned away from her with a huff. I smiled down at him and playfully ruffled his hair.

"And I thought I was bad," muttered Brandon, a hint of amusement tinted in his tone.

Ava has finally noticed Brandon's presence then instantly began to giggle like the little school girl she is as her face burned red and twirl her hair between her fingers. I raised a brow at her, a small smirk on my face; she is definitely like me. I used to lose my inhibitions whenever I was around Josh or heard his name and I would turned into a completely different person polar to my real self.

Even though Ava is dating Auggie, she still acts a little silly in front of Brandon. She didn't want anything with him, she is just infatuated by his brooding demeanor and the fact he is older, has his own place, literally owns his personal business, and is street smart. The perfect combination to easily attract a teenage girl. Seeing that makes me wonder if I ever did look that foolish when I was her age.

"Hi, Brandon," she giggled flirtatiously.

Brandon looked at her oddly for a second, pressing his lips together in an awkward smile, scratching his head, and placed his hand on Jonathan's hand.

"Uh, hey there, kid," he murmured stiffly then turned to my little brother. "Let's get you inside, tyke. Maya?"

"I actually need to talk to her," Ava said quickly, all signs of her amorous behavior gone and replaced with one of hope, staring at me with pointed eyes.

I was taken aback. "Uh, sure, Ava."

"Alright." Brandon tapped on Jonathan's head. "Let's go, tyke."

"Don't hit my head!" whined Jonathan.

I watched them as Brandon opened the unlocked door to the Matthews' residence and led Jonathan inside, a wide smile stretching over my face when the sound of Topanga's overjoyed voice welcoming my little brother and Cory's suspicious tone demanding Brandon of his arrival was heard before the door slammed shut. Then I turned to Ava, who was not nervously rubbing her arm while keeping her eyes on her feet and biting her lip.

"What's up, Ava?" I asked softly. I never see her act like this towards me. She's usually very confident in confiding in me about anything.

"Can we sit down?" she insisted.

She didn't wait for me to answer and moved to the wall opposite of us to slide down into a fetal position with her knees hugged close to her chest. I didn't sit next to her; I crouched in front of her and waited patiently whilst I stared at her expectedly.

"What's going on?" I asked.

Ava opened her mouth then closed it. She opened her mouth again only to close it once more. I didn't say anything. It wasn't because I wasn't impatient but it was because I didn't know what to do at this moment. Like I said, Ava is always very open with me without me even asking so to have her suddenly behave so reserved with me was foreign.

"When...When you were being taught by Mr. Matthews," she started in a feeble voice, "did you make you do an assignment called the Forgiveness Project?"

"Oh," I sighed; I already knew where this is going. I moved to sit next to her and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close to me as she laid her head on my shoulder.

"I'm guessing you know what I'm talking about," she assumed.

I frowned. "Yeah, I do."

I couldn't really forget the unbearable Forgiveness Project. It was by far one of the worst assignments I was ever forced to face. He was like every other dull teacher - he actually liked to mix life lessons that are related to his school lessons. It actually did help us grow in mind, filling it up with awareness of the reality of the world, even though some of them would leave me dumbfounded, but most of them would a bit too forceful for me to handle. The ones I didn't enjoy were of belief and forgiveness.

I wasn't a firm believer of God before and Riley lived her life depending on her Father's great power. She had tried to push her religion onto me, claiming that the mindset I was living off was not healthy and keep me off track in life. It ended up with me and Riley not speaking for almost a week because I grew tired of her beliefs. It wasn't an easy time to go through. I did, however, ace the assignment when I finally understood what Cory was trying to teach other; listen to other's perspective, in their purpose behind why they believe in higher power, and see if it would change your own.

I can honestly say it did.

The Forgiveness Project, however, was a huge failure for me. The point of it was to forgive something that happened in your life so it could change your history for the better. Whether it was petty stuff or meaningful things, we had to write a letter to that person who harmed us in any way and let them know they were forgiven for it. I couldn't pull through with the assignment and failed.

I just couldn't do it.

"How'd you do it?" questioned Ava.

I shook my head. "I didn't pass it. I...couldn't do it."

Ava knitted her eyebrows. "Was it really that hard?"

I bit my lip. She knew enough about my past to know I understand her but she didn't know the whole story. Although we came from similar backgrounds, we didn't share the exact same struggles that came from them.

"You wrote to your dad?" I asked, abruptly changing the topic. My hand squeezed her shoulder slightly from the constricting sensation happening in my chest.

Ava nodded in silence. She snuggled closer to my side and laid an arm over my stomach.

"Did he reply?"

"I didn't think he would but he did. He came to Topanga's last week. You weren't there - you just got out of work and left with Riley."

"And what happened?"

"It was...hard."

Ava lifted her head from my shoulder and I had to swallow down the lump in my throat when I saw that her eyes were now rimmed red, glassy with fresh tears threatening to come out.

"I let him explain why he left me and my mom like the way he did," she said. "He told me he couldn't really handle all the pressures of being the provider of the family and that he never really wanted to start one in the first place. He said he lived his entire relationship with my mom giving her everything she wanted to make her happy and never once thought about himself. He thinks it shouldn't be wrong of him to think about himself for once."

I inhaled a deep breath as my nerves were now boiling over in a burning rage that I am pretty certain steam was coming out of my ears and my face was deep red. I had to ball my right hand up in a tight, trembling fist, feeling my nails dig deep into my palm. _That little prick…_

"Pretty messed up, huh?" Ava laughed dryly. "He blamed me for him not happy. He thinks he couldn't think about himself for once because of me."

At this point, Ava didn't care about her tears running down her, the drops tained in her black mascara and smudging her flawless skin. She was trying to keep her breathing normal but it would break with each inhale and come out shaky through every exhale, finishing up with a choke hiccup. I immediately went to cradle her to my chest, letting her drench my torso with her tears and clutch onto me like I was her lifeline, as I stroke her hair in hopes it would somehow soothe her.

It didn't work. If she didn't have her face buried in my shirt, I think some of the neighbors, or specifically her mother, would have heard her sobbing loudly, but thankfully, it was muffled.

"Auggie thinks I'm gonna break up with him," she said through her cries. "He gave me some space after I met up with my dad but a few days ago he told me that because I haven't talked to him at all."

"Have he tried to communicate with you?" I inquired.

Ava grimaced. "Sometimes, yeah. He would call me but I wouldn't answer then he would text me telling me that he's waiting for my call when I feel ready...I never felt ready to talk to him."

"Did he tell you why he thinks you're gonna break up with him?"

Ava shook her head. "Sorta. He just says he understands if I didn't want him to bother me anymore and just left before I could say anything. But...I wasn't annoyed by him."

My lips twitched. "Maybe he feels that he is annoying you and making the whole situation with your father a lot worse."

Ava looked at me in question. "Why do you think that?"

I breathed out a pathetic laugh, a sad smile on my face, and I tilted my head back as I stared up at the ceiling. "Auggie has a little bit of Riley in him - maybe more than Riley has in her - and just like her, he'll do whatever it takes to fix anything that he doesn't like and will go to any length to make it right. Even if it means excluding himself from the solution if he feels that will help make it better."

Ava frowned. "Has Riley done it with you?"

"Loads of times," I said. "She would be dramatic about it sometimes but then again I wasn't exactly grateful either. I always had the tendency of pushing people away when I need them most because I had too much pride and I'd take it too far to the point I hurt those people. There was this one time - one of the worst ever - that almost ended my friendship with Riley for good because I wanted to be alone and she was pushing herself onto me to let her in - I don't like being pushed or I'll end up exploding."

"And you did," she stated.

"And I did," I repeated with a sigh. "It was horrible. I didn't think we'd ever be friends again."

"And what happened?"

"I caved in. I squashed my pride and went to Riley. Turns out she was waiting for me to come. She was realized she was wrong on her part as much as I was on mine. We managed to work out our differences and we got through that little...conflict...I was too stupid about."

"A long time ago...the day my dad left...you said I should stick close to my best friend," she responded softly.

With a small smile, I nodded. "Yeah, I did."

"What do I do if my best friend leaves me too?"

"You won't."

"But what if I do?"

"You don't," I said firmly. "You won't lose Auggie."

She was doubtful. "How do you know that?"

"You can't lose a Matthews as your friendship," I muttered under my breath. "They're too stubborn for that."

My comment was able to pull out a giggle from her somber mood and the short cheerful smile made the pressure in my chest alleviate. I like having Ava happy - she was a lot more beautiful that way.

"But on a serious note, Ava, you don't have to worry," I continued. "You could push, shove, kick, and knock down Auggie as many times as you want but nothing you do will be enough to make him leave you for good. That scrawny, little nerd loves you too much." I reach over to brush back a few strands of her hair that had fallen from her bun and wipe away her tears with my thumb. "He will give you all the space and time in the world for as long as you want, even if it means you not wanting to be with him anymore, but in the end, he's actually waiting for you to come to him so he could do what he does best and be there for you."

Ava's face was not something I expected; she looked like she was going to break down in seconds. The sight made the feeling in my chest to harden. I couldn't stop seeing myself, my younger self, in Ava when she has these moments of her vulnerability leaking out of her facade and this overwhelming urge to keep her shielded from herself takes over me. I immediately pulled her onto my lap, seeing her not resist me as I embraced her strongly, rocking her back and forth.

It was not long before the effects of her gargled sobs finally got the better of me and I was also on the verge of tears too, tightening my hold around the shivering girl as I hid my face in her hair, trying to not let her catch any glimpse of me for her sake. She needed someone who could be her rock, who could give her sense of comfort that she desperately seeks, and if she sees an ounce of sadness on me then she would not believe in me anymore.

"I understand that your father leaving you makes you question a lot of things, Ava, and you're scared of so many things right now, and that's okay," I murmured quietly into her hair while rubbing her back. "You were so little when he left and that...it...got to you so hard and you're scared of abandonment. I've been there."

"Why...w-why...did dad l-leave?" she stuttered. "Wha...w-what did I d-do wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong - you were just a little girl," I said. "Sometimes...sometimes people make their own decisions and they decide to go away for a while...and sometimes it takes time to understand why. But you need to know that it isn't your fault." I pause for a moment to take a couple of deep breaths to keep myself calm as my emotions were a bit unsteady. "You'll have moments where you'll sit by yourself and try to figure it out and you'll blame yourself. But it isn't your fault. You won't believe that now because you didn't get the closure you needed - you didn't get to let him see what he did and haunt him with the memory of how heartbroken you looked. Until then, you won't believe that and keep thinking you did something. But it isn't your fault."

I waited a couple of minutes before Ava finally pulled back from my arms, revealing to me a face of pink cheeks and reddened eyes. I reached inside the pocket of my jacket and handed her the extra tissue I usually bring in case Jonathan had a stuffy nose. She accepted it gratefully and wipe away the remains of her tears.

"You should talk to Auggie," I suggested. "He just wants to help you in any way he can but he can't do that if you don't talk to him about it. He's most likely aware that you're affected by your father's visit and that's all he knows. Right now, he's doing what he thinks is best for you and give you space, to give you the option to end your relationship with him if it means you getting better somehow."

"I know that," she said. "I just...I don't know how to explain how I feel. It's overwhelming."

"It's normal," I replied honestly. "You don't have to go big and give him this long speech. You just tell him what you think you need and he will do it for you. Because he loves you."

Ava's mouth curled upward slightly. "He does make me happy."

"I know he does. And I'm sure you make him happy despite this minor setback."

"She's not wrong."

Surprised, Ava and I look up to see August Matthews himself standing at the doorway, his expression full of concern towards the young girl in my arms. He was holding a small pink box tied with a red polka-dotted bow. He was wearing a comfortable grey sweater and a pair of jeans.

I don't think I would get over at how hard puberty hit Auggie. It's like baby features was slapped off of him and replaced with these handsome, sharp edges of a well-sculptured model. He had a bit of a baby beard growing along his jawline and his sideburns were a little fluffier. He had grown to love his curls as they got wilder and untamed throughout the years but today he seem to have used a blowdryer as his curls were straightened into luscious locks that he had tired together into a man bun with a few strands leaning over his face.

In other words, Auggie was fucking attractive.

And it is so weird of me to think like that about him when I practically grew up with this kid since he was three. It feels like incest.

Smiling, I loosen my hold around Ava to let her stand up and face Auggie directly.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing at the box.

Auggie's face flared red and he grinned sheepishly. "My mom and I baked some of your favorites. I was going to leave them at your front door...you know...in case you got a sweet tooth."

Ava stared at Auggie intently, a impassive glint in her eyes. She didn't look guilty or happy by his kind gesture, but she was trembling slightly, her fingers twitching a little, and her face was becoming a light red. Auggie didn't seem so confident in his gift the longer she remained silent and I grew more concern for her. I was about to stand up when she suddenly shot forward and trapped Auggie in her arms, her face hidden in his shoulder, the unexpected action causing Auggie to gasp lightly.

I smiled tenderly at the sight. I can see I wasn't needed anymore. I rose up to my feet and walked past them, sending a knowing smile to a very blushing Auggie over Ava's head, then entered the apartment.

Inside the home, I can see Topanga was absorbed in something on her laptop, surrounded by tiny towers of documents, while Cory and Jonathan were busy creating a mess in the kitchen with ingredients that I assume are for some pancakes. I couldn't find Brandon anywhere and I think he asked them to use their bathroom for a moment. Translation; Brandon excused himself so he could sneak out onto the fire escape outside of Riley's old bedroom and have a quick smoke by himself.

I took this moment to glance around the room. It hasn't changed; the beautiful art pieces painted by Pablo Picasso hung up by the door and over the small fireplace, the colorfully designed pillow cushions on the couch and the windowsill, the steel oven and refrigerator in the kitchen, the bulletin board covered in pinned drawings from Riley and Auggie's childhood, and the many framed pictures from the Matthews' wedding and honeymoon, Riley and Auggie's births, and the memorable moments I shared with Riley seen on any shelf in sight. There is also the small desk area next to the kitchen that Topanga uses for her important cases and Corey uses to grade his student's work.

It gives off a nostalgic feel to stand in a room that holds so much memories in every corner and nook spotted. It makes me sometimes wish I could turn back the clock to relive some of those precious moments. Only sometimes.

I close the door behind me so nobody would see the scene playing in the hallway, the sound of the click making the married Matthews look up from their tasks, and a welcoming smile paints over their slightly wrinkled faces.

"Hey, Maya," greeted Topanga.

"What's up, losers?" I grinned as I approached them in the kitchen. I lean down to give Topanga a kiss on the cheek then took a seat at the table.

"There's some leftovers from today's dinner in the microwave if you're hungry," Topanga said.

I quickly got up and headed over to the microwave. I never really noticed how starved I was until she mentioned it. I didn't have a really big lunch today either, being it consisted of small sandwiches and a can of coke while I gave Jonathan a meal from Chipotle.

"Where's Riley?" I asked.

"She's on her way," Topanga answered. "She needed to go back to her job for a last-minute staff meeting. How's life so far, Maya?"

"The usual," I said as I returned to the table with my meal. "School work, work work, paying bills, and sleeping. Nothing special."

"You're not going to the art show?" asked Cory.

I heaved out a sigh. "No. I'm not. I don't have the money to buy a ticket. Those things are expensive. I'll just watch some walkthrough video about it on YouTube or something."

"Do you want us to pitch in? We don't mind lending you what you need," said Topanga. "How much do you need?"

I shook my head. "I appreciate it but I really don't want to take your money. One ticket costs almost five hundred dollars without taxes." I lean closer to Topanga to quietly whisper to her. "Besides, I'm trying to give off an example to the little tyke. He already has me spoiling him to the bone and I don't want him to think I'm getting the money by asking for it, y'know."

Topanga smiled and nodded. "I understand."

"Are you working on another case?" I asked as I leaned back and started to dig into my meal. "What's it about this time?"

"Divorced couples fighting for full custody of their only child," she murmured. "'I've dug up enough evidence to help the father win his case. The mother doesn't exactly have a clean background and she could end up harming the little boy with her untreated disorders. I don't think a child in his age should be traumatized so young."

"What kind of disorders does she have?" I asked curiously.

"She an extreme paranoid schizophrenic and also has depressive personality disorders and DID."

"What's DID?"

"Dissociative Identity Disorder."

"Never heard of it."

"You mostly know it as MPD; Multiple Personality Disorder."

"Like the movie _Split?_ "

"Something close to that."

I grimaced. "Damn. That's rough. But why couldn't she get it treated?"

Topanga shook her head. "It's not that she couldn't get it treated. It's that she didn't want to get treated. She missed five appointments with her psychiatrist until she stopped going there altogether. Mr. Lorn is worried that she will or is hurting his son during his weekend stays at her house because he seems more reserved and he's gotten calls from concerned teachers."

"What kind of stuff does she usually do that scares the kid?"

"So far, not much to physically harm the child but to leave him emotionally scarred. He said that one minute his mother is being herself then the next she's claiming that every toy he owns is hers and demanding he gives her his lunch money."

I raised a brow. "Was she a bully when she was little?"

"Yeah, she was." Topanga then rises up and reaches for her phone next to her laptop. "I'll be right back. I need to make a quick phone call with Micheals."

"Ah, Topanga, wait!" I quickly jump up to run after her in the hallway leading to the bedrooms. "I need to talk to you about something."

Topanga seemed intrigued. "What is it, honey?"

I ran my hand through my hair. "I was just wondering...have you heard anything new about my mom? Any new leads that may help find her?"

Topanga sighed. I can tell she was expecting this from me - I always ask her the same thing whenever I meet up with her. I try to hold it together when I see her but it spills out instantly the moment she comes into the room and a sense of desperation hits me as the urge to want to find my mother grows. She doesn't get bothered by me. She and my mother were close friend before she disappeared and she wanted to find my mother as much as everybody does. I have no doubt she had spent long nights trying to hear more about my mother and continues on the next day. She must be exhausted.

"Maya," she said sternly. "You know Shawn said you shouldn't get involved in this."

I frowned. "I know he said that but I just want to know. Is there anything new?"

"Maya, honey, I am trying everything I can to help Shawn find your mother," she answered. "I know he told you that his trip to Minnesota wasn't successful but that doesn't mean we're stopping here. We're doing everything we can to find new leads. I even have a friend in the police department who is looking up on this stuff too."

My ears perked. "Officer James?"

Topanga smiled. "Yes. He doesn't feel that the case was exactly over either and he was happy to be like an insider for me in the force."

A flutter of glee erupts in my heart at the mentioning of an old friend of mine. Officer James and I weren't particularly close friends. It was more like a distant friendship. He and I met a couple of years ago when I was going through an identity crisis and I used vandalism as one of my many ways to handle it. Officer James was the one who caught me, claiming it was his park under his watch, and surprisingly he let me go in the end, saying he will miraculously lose the file of my crime. To this day, I will never understand why he did that but I would occasionally visit the park I painted to greet him with a box of Krispy Kreme and a nice grande cup from Starbucks.

Knowing the man who let me go was also helping my subordinate mother find my biological mother was like a light shining through for the first time.

Topanga steps closer to me and wraps and arm around my shoulders. "Sweetheart, I know you want to help out Shawn and I find Katy but honestly your main priority right now is to take care of Jonathan and keep him happy."

"Jon wants his parents home," I said. "He's starting to think that mom left us and I don't want him to think of her as someone who abandons her kids when she isn't."

"Oh dear." Topanga grimaced.

"Wouldn't it be faster if I helped out?" I suggested. "I'll still take care of Jon on the weekends like I always do. I could talk to some people I know and see if they know anybody who would do this."

"Maya, we can't risk this investigation going public," Topanga replied. "We don't know what kind of people would kidnap her or what for and we don't know if some of those people involved in her kidnapping could still be here. If you go talking to people about this and they're part of the whole thing then we'll lose our chances of finding her. I know you want to help out because she is your mother and you want her home but really you need to do what you're told to do."

"I'm not a little kid," I said.

"This has nothing to do with whether you're a kid or not, Maya. It's to not have as many people involved and having more risk on being discovered. We're not even suppose to be doing this investigation - I'm not suppose to be using my job privileges on a case that ran cold a long time ago and James shouldn't be looking into a case that he wasn't included in. We're both taking chances to find Katy."

I blinked my eyes a couple of times to prevent the forming tears in my eyes from leaking over and I inhaled a shaky breath.

"I just want her home," I said after a moment. "I can't just sit here and not do anything while you guys do all the heavy lifting. That's my mother out there going through who knows hell what while I'm over here playing babysitter and college student. I'm trying so hard to be strong for Jon but it's getting harder, Topanga."

Topanga frowned. "Look, I can't say I understand what you're going through right now, Maya. I know you're in pain - I know you're desperate to do something - believe me, I'm desperate to do more than what I can do and I want Katy back home too." She places her hand on my cheek and rubs her thumb over the tear I didn't know had fallen over my face. "She has done so much to make sure you get where you are and she will want to keep seeing you grow."

"So let me help," I whimpered.

Topanga didn't seem convinced. "How about this?" she insisted. "Give us a little more time to try to find Katy and if by summer we haven't done much progress then you can help. How does that sound? Fair?"

I bit my lip. It wasn't exactly the answer I wanted to hear but I should have expected that from Topanga. She is more of a woman who finds way to compromise rather than to give into another. But I couldn't really get upset with her proposal. It is actually a lot better than the last ones she gave me.

"I'll take it," I said gruffly.

Topanga smiled sadly and brought both of her hands up to cup my moist cheeks in her palms as she stared into my eyes. "We'll find her."

"I hope so."

"We will." She leaned in to kiss my forehead. "I'll talk to you later. I have to make that phone call."

"Okay."

Topanga gives me another kiss before she turned, dialing on her phone, and disappeared inside her bedroom. I stared at her closed door for a few seconds, feeling a pressure in my chest from the conversation, then I whirled around to head back to the kitchen, however, I stopped at one step when a new sight came into view from the corner of my eye and turned to it.

It was a room. An old room with a familiar natural feel to it. It was dark with only the moonlight spilling in from a very irreplaceable window. I took one step past the threshold and blindlessly reached to the side to flick on the lights.

Once the room was lit up, I was able to see the room clearly again. It hasn't changed a thing even though Jonathan is the one sleeping in here now. The duvet from Urban Outfitters was neatly folded and spread across the twin-sized bed like it should framed art, organizer, and hanging stars from PB Teen remained untouched. The purple string lights from Modcloth waited to be used from the ceiling. The walk-in closet was bare of Riley's clothes and held Jonathan's. And the desk Riley had since she was twelve still stayed at the corner where is belongs.

A wave of nostalgia crashed over me as I absorbed the thousand memories this room contained. From the day I crawled through the Bay Window to the day I helped Riley pack up for college. So many wild things she and I did in this room or brought us to this room to talk about. The important conversations, the planning, the birthdays, the holidays, and the day we both opened our letters for NYU - it all happened right there.

I took a couple of tentative steps inside the room, hearing the heel of my shoes thud against the wooden floor, glancing around the room. I looked at the mirror covered in small polaroids at the edges, the bulletin boards with old school club notices or old love letters from Evan pinned onto it, and the decorations on the wall behind the bed. I see even the bunny nightlight I got for her eighth birthday stayed plugged in the wall next to her bed.

I went to sit on the Bay Window and glanced at the street below through the glass. Goosebumps rose on my skin as the sensation of old comfort and security shot through me by sitting on this same spot again. Seeing the sky, the lights of other apartment buildings bright behind curtains, of cars driving by, and the moon dominating them all was a reminder why I got interested in art for the first time.

It was for a school project that Cory assigned us to do. It was a way for us to learn the value of life without any forms of connection to social media - it was also a way for us to see how much communication has changed over the years. I didn't really have a problem speaking to people directly since I didn't have a phone until I was sixteen but Riley struggled the most especially when she was unknowingly assigned to a nerd she had a crush on back then. Although, I did get to learn that because of not being able to have a phone for a screen saver, I would try to recreate what I see with a pencil and a notepad. I have learned my lesson through that.

The first time I realized I did that was right here on this Bay Window. I was ignoring my partner, Marcus, who was trying to start up a conversation with me and Riley was somehow succeeding to talk to her former crush, while I was mindlessly sketching on a notepad I took from Riley's bag. I didn't know I was doing it until Marcus pointed it out and I saw how detailed the picture was.

I didn't know I could do something like that. I continued to try out different styles of art that I looked up on, capturing sights around New York I didn't think to look twice at, and recreating them in a simple piece of paper, no matter the size of it. I've gotten praises in art classes by my teachers, saying that I've gotten a gift to not following the crowd on their assignments for the day, and telling me I was going to be known worldwide in the art community. It made me feel good about myself and I never stopped.

"Maya?"

I jumped at my name being called out and I looked away from the sky to see Josh standing by the doorway, staring at me with these tranced eyes that made my heart race. It doesn't help the fact he was wearing that beanie I find incredibly dashing on him.

"B-Boing," I stuttered. "Hey."

"Hey," he grinned as he approached me at the window and sat next to me, not too close. "I was hoping you'd come."

"Well, I didn't have much of a choice," I said. "I had to bring Jon back."

"Yeah, I just saw the little tyke," he replied. "He's busy making a mess in the kitchen with my brother. I don't think Topanga is gonna be happy when she sees what they did."

"Jon already got his punishment this weekend. He got to experience a sugar rush and crashed real hard afterwards. I'll let him go this time."

Josh smirked. "Poor kid." He then glanced around the room and looked out the window, his eyes full of wonder. "So I was talking to my parents earlier and they invited me to come to Philadelphia. Actually, they invited me and the rest of the family. It's kind of for this annual family barbeque -"

"Matthews Barbeque Weekend," I said. "I remember. Your dad makes the best ribs. I wish he'd tell me what kind of sauce he uses because it's not plain barbeque."

"Don't bother because he won't even tell me what's in it," he chuckled. He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly seeming bashful. "Actually, they asked about you."

"Oh, really?" I asked, my eyes widening slightly. It was a little surprising to me. Josh's parents didn't really hate me for breaking up with him but they weren't too fond of me like they used to be and I assume that is normal since they are parents who watched their youngest born get heartbroken by their granddaughter's best friend.

"Yeah, they were wondering if you wanted to come," he said. "They do miss you, y'know. They ask about you at least once a week to see how you're doing and they would love for you to come."

"Uh…" I was hesitant. "Josh, I...I don't think I should go."

"It won't be awkward, Maya. They really want to see you again."

"Josh, I already got a lot of stuff to worry about and I don't have enough time to make promises like that. I got enough on my plate."

"If it's about school you're worried about then you don't have to. It's after your graduation. They wanted to be able to celebrate Riley graduating college at the same time. And I'm sure you can get Ophelia to cover for you for one weekend."

"Then I just don't want to go."

"Maya," sighed Josh. "I really want to talk about us."

"There is no us," I said tiredly; I was hoping to avoiding this topic. "I thought we agreed that we won't talk about this until after graduation?"

"I know, I know," he said, frowning. "You're right, we did agree on that. But I was hoping we could talk about us trying to see if we're still compatible, not to see if we could be together again."

I eyed at him in confusion. "Isn't that the same thing?"

"Not exactly," he answered. "I get that you don't want to talk about us getting back together again and I respect that but can we at least try to see if we're still compatible for each other? You know, see what it was that got us together in the first place and remind each other why we cared about each other in the beginning."

"I was too young for you," I smirked.

Josh lowered his head with a sheepish grin. "Okay, maybe not _that_ beginning. I'm talking about _the_ beginning for us."

"Oh." I blushed slightly. "You mean the long game."

"Yeah." Josh nodded, his eyes now sparkling in hope. "I still want to play it with you. Maybe we could do a restart on things and maybe pass go again. You could take a hit on the dice first."

I could only stare at him, trying to take in his words and motives. It was a lot to take in. Here I have Josh, the same man who I broke all my walls down for the first time and end up hurting in the end because of my own personal problems, proposing a new start for our relationship. He was offering new terms for us, new plays, new plans, and a new possibilities of a better future for the both of us.

"Josh, I -" I paused for a minute to contemplate on my words before continuing. "You mean...talking again?"

"Yeah," Josh smiled softly. "Nothing too big. I know once you're done with college, you're gonna start your life soon. I was thinking of more like checking in on each other once in a while, maybe make a few plans to hang out as friends, and see what happens from there."

A gentle smile grew on my face as I looked at the sincerity on Josh's face. This is main reason why I was attracted to him; when he learned about my past, he always made sure things were in my own terms and within my boundaries if it made me happy and that made him happy. He cared about me like I was family and it grew for him to love me as a woman he could spend his life.

I brushed back a strand of my hair behind my ear. "We could try," I said. I could see his face light up in elation and a huge grin splits across it. "Start up as friends and move up from there."

Josh nodded in agreement then he reached over my lap to take my small hand in his large one and moves closer to me until our sides are pressed against each other, his eyes never breaking away from me. I glanced down at out tangled hands, relishing the ancient warmth of his velvet smooth skin against mine, noticing that it was still so natural to have him here next to me and touching him in ease.

I wasn't sure if it was because he and I have a long history together or because I really did miss having this.

"I missed you, Maya," he admitted.

"I missed you too, Josh," I said. "I'm really sorry with the way things ended between us. I shouldn't have done it the way it did."

"It's okay. You had your reasons."

"But I didn't. You didn't do anything wrong and when we were going to...you know...do it...you were very respectful of the pace and you didn't try to push it further unless I did something. I shouldn't have freaked out the way I did and broken up with you that way. I really am sorry."

Josh let's go of my hand to wrap an arm around my shoulders and hold me close to me, the kind smile never leaving his face. I was mesmerized by his dazzling brown eyes for a second and subconsciously licked my lips temptation from the close proximity.

"Hey, I'm still here, aren't I?" he said. "I told you from the beginning that I'm not going anywhere, Maya. I'm still keeping that promise."

I smiled in relief and, without thinking, leaned up to kiss his cheek then hid my face in the crook of his neck to hide the obvious blush of my cheeks as he inhaled sharply. I felt him tighten his hold around me and rubbed my shoulder. He also kissed my head and laid his cheek against it but I didn't really mind; I actually enjoy his embrace.

There was a knock by the door and I lift my head from Josh to see Riley standing there. She had a slightly surprised expression on her face, with a hint of fear in her eyes, but also a sense of hope, and a tiny smile. If my face wasn't burning before, it was a blazing inferno right now.

"Hey, you guys," she said slowly as she walked towards us in tentative steps with her arms crossed and a quizzical brow raised. "What's going on here?"

Not so discreetly, I pulled away from Josh and patted my hands on my lap while biting my lip. "Nothing much, just...just talking," I finished lamely.

"Nothing important," added Josh.

"Okay." Riley seemed unconvinced. "Well, daddy is looking for you, Uncle Josh. He needs help cleaning the kitchen before mom comes out."

Josh rolled his eyes. "I saw that coming." He stands up and turns to me with a smile. "Till next time?"

I nodded. "Till next time."

Josh stays a little longer, gazing at me with soft eyes, before he turned away to give Riley a kiss on the cheek and then walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Riley then takes over Josh's spot beside me on the Bay Window and stares at me with questioning eyes.

"So?" she began.

"So?" I repeated. I was trying to play the dumb blonde card.

"You and Josh?" she questioned.

Slowly, I nodded. "Yeah," I answered. "We talked and we decided to try again. As friends."

"So you guys might end up back together?"

"There's no guarantee we'll get back together."

"But what if you two end up the same way again?"

"That's why we're trying to be friends again. To see if maybe what brought together could do it again and see if we're still compatible for each other."

"Do you want to be back together with him?"

I pressed my lips together in a hard line. "I'm not really sure. We'll just have to wait and see."

"And what about Lucas?" Riley asked seriously.

I looked at her in disbelief. "What about Lucas?"

"Well, weren't you considering going for him after we talked?" she clarified.

"Riley, there is nothing between me and Lucas," I said. "Me and him were never going to happen. Even if I did try, I doubt we would have lasted long. He's this big shot in business and I'm a waitress in a middle class society - those two things don't really go together. Besides, I'm pretty sure he's forgotten about me by and has some girl in his bed right now."

Riley frowned. "So you're going for Uncle Josh?"

"It makes more sense, doesn't it?" I said. "He's my first love - the first guy I ever let in - and I don't think I'll be able to do that with another guy again. It was hard enough for Josh. That's why Lucas and I were never going to happen."

"So you're not even gonna try and see if maybe he is the right guy for you? What if he wants to date you?"

"Hey whack job?"

"Yes?"

"He doesn't want to go out with me," I said solidly. "He's not going out with me. He's never going out with me."

"Well, if he doesn't want to go out with him, do you not want him to go out with other girls?" Riley challenged.

I sighed. "Riles, please. I can only handle one guy at a time. Lucas is history."

There was a sudden thud on the window behind us and when we turn to the sound, we can see Brandon's combat boot stepping on the sill of the window as he crouched down into view. He looked bored, almost a bit tired, but he also seemed a little irritated and he has a tiny stub of his cigarette stuck between his lips, still burning at the tip.

"When did you get here?" Riley demanded, her face twisted in disgust, as she flared her hand around to fan the smoke away from her face.

I grinned in amusement; Riley was never really comfortable around Brandon because his brooding demeanor frightens her or she could not find the right things to talk about with him, and Brandon couldn't really get along with Riley because he didn't have the patience to withstand her inhuman optimism or find any of the things she is interested in to be worth listening to.

They were not friends but they try to mingle with each other for me since I was friends with both of them and they like me so they have no choice but to get along for me.

"I've been here, Matthews," Brandon said. He takes the cigarette from his lips after he took a drag and turned his head to exhale the nicotine. "If you take a time to breath, you would have noticed."

The tip of Riley's ears turned red and her nostrils flared. "Could you put that little...drug out? I don't want the smell to be in my room."

"You don't sleep in here anymore."

"It doesn't matter. It's still my room."

Brandon gazed at her in silence with a slightly raised brow, his lips quirked in an amused smirk. Then he took another drag and blew small smoke ring towards Riley's face, making her huff in repulsion while she shot up to her feet and flapped her arms around as if she was trying to swat a crowd of swarming bees away from her.

"That's gross!" she cried.

"You're dramatic," Brandon rolled his eyes.

"Just crush it, Rebel," I said. "I'm pretty sure you smoked half of your pack by now. Not having one cigarette is going to kill you."

Brandon scowled at me while I smiled jokingly at him. He turned to Riley as he climbed inside the room, his boots thudding loudly against the floor, placing the cigarette back in his lips, and walked languidly towards her, his tall height making her seem unusually smaller. Riley was watching him anxiously, never moving from her spot, but leaning back a little bit so the smoke wouldn't hit her face.

"D-did you hear what Maya said?" she asked nervously.

"Yeah. I heard."

"S-so why aren't you doing it?" she stammered. I held my breath to stop myself from laughing at the scene. I can almost hear Riley's pulse racing insanely at this point.

"You're so easy to mess with, Matthews," he chuckled amusingly. "You're like a skittish cat."

Brandon finally turns away from Riley and flicks his cigarette out the window, seeing it slip through the gaps of the fire escape. Riley pouts in irritation and crosses her arms as if she was like a little kid who didn't get to have their favorite candy bar from a sugar store. I laughed at her adorable antics as I went to her and took her hand while standing beside her.

"Anyway, I'm 'bout to head out, Hunter," said Brandon. "I got a long day tomorrow with that damned car and all. The owner is expecting it finished by the end of this week."

I nodded. "Alright. Take it easy."

Brandon gives me a wink and a sarcastic smile to Riley before he climbed over the Bay Window to leave on the fire escape. Riley moved forward to slam the window shut and lock it tightly.

"Why are you even friends with a guy like him?" she asked incredulously.

"Why are you friends with a girl like me?" I shot back.

"You and I make sense," she said. "You and him don't."

"Riley, he and I do make sense," I snorted. "Detention buddies, rebellious streaks, horrible backgrounds, and failed relationships - that sounds like an expected friendship. You and I, on the other hand, make no sense whatsoever - you being a teacher's daughter and honor student and me being your polar opposite - but we still work and we don't even know why."

"I know why," Riley smiled. "We balance each other out. Without you, I don't think I'd ever unfold my hands."

"And without you, I don't think I could ever come back whenever I go full-blown Maya."

"So we do make sense."

"Yeah, we do," I chuckled. "Now let's go and raid your parent's fridge. I'm starving."

Riley giggled, rolling her eyes, then she took my hand and guided us out of her room, switching off the lights on the way, leaving the small bunny nightlight to illuminate like a lone star in the darkness.

* * *

It was a lot harder to say goodbye to Jonathan this time. I think after the slightly emotional moments we had over the weekend, he had gotten clingier and sadder as soon as he noticed I was going to depart. Of course, it took Josh and Cory's strength combined to peel him off of my leg and Riley to stand behind me to make sure I didn't tumble over.

"But I don't want you to go!" wailed Jonathan as he squirmed around in Josh's arms, his face blotched by his running tears and dripping snot, waving his arms towards me in desperation. "I want you to stay! Stay Maya!"

"Jon, I'm gonna see you again tomorrow after school," I reassured him with a forced smile. I didn't want to leave him too.

"No!" Jonathan then accidentally dug his elbow into Josh's rib, forcing him to let go with a wheeze, and Jonathan immediately sprinted into my arms as soon as his feet touched the ground. "I wanna stay with Maya!"

"Jon," I sighed. He never makes it easier for me. "I have to go. I got school tomorrow and I have work. I can see you afterwards."

Jonathan shook his head. "No!"

"C'mon, booger," I gently stroke his head, his soft hair brushing through my fingers. "You're gonna see me again tomorrow and every other day after that. You're just staying here to sleep in."

"But I wanna sleep at your place!"

"But I wanna sleep in my own bed!"

"We can share!"

"You kick in your sleep!"

Jonathan looks up at me with a pair of innocent, pleading eyes that were glistening with unshed tears threatening to fall over. My heart pounded rapidly until it reached to the point I don't feel it anymore as the sight of him was breaking it in two and dropping to the pit of my stomach. I never liked seeing him cry; he looks like a wounded puppy looking for his mother. It is such a Riley thing to think about but it is the best way to describe him.

"Please stay," he whimpered.

"Jon, I -"

"Come on, little tyke," said Josh with a grin. "I got plans for us this week. I was thinking we go to Coney Island and ride on the big roller coasters, go to the Central Park Zoo, and maybe go to the Spot Dessert Bar like old times. Does that sound like fun?"

Hesitantly, Jonathan turned to Josh and I smiled at him in gratitude, mouth a low 'thank you' to him because I knew that Jonathan was a bit reluctant but still curious of Josh's proposal. Just like I do in the weekends, Josh would do some planned activities for Jonathan if he ever stays in town and keep his mind off of me until our next weekend came.

"I can't have sugar," said Jonathan. "Maya said I can't have any because I threw up and got sick. I don't like being sick."

I smiled in triumph. At least he learned his lesson.

"Ok then we can go bike riding on the Brooklyn Bridge," Josh said. "We can do that then we can go watch movies and stuff."

Jonathan sniffled then glanced at me with questioning eyes. I smiled and nodded, giving him a light shove towards Josh. He took that as a green light and jumped into Josh's arms with a giddy laughter, the cloud in despair dissipated altogether as his thousand-watt smile blinded me with its glow.

"Alright girls, you have to get going," said Cory as he approached us. He gave Riley a suffocating hug along with a kiss on her cheek before he turned to me to give me the same farewell. "It's getting late and I don't like you taking the subway this late. Call me when you get home."

"We will, daddy," said Riley.

"Thanks for taking care of Jon, Matthews," I said.

"It's no problem, Maya, you know that," replied Cory.

Topanga came up to give us the same goodbye as he did before she turned to Josh and take Jonathan from his arms then Josh came up to us.

"I'll walk you out," he insisted politely.

I didn't bother to protest because I knew he would do it either way and allowed him to walk us out of the apartment, his hand lightly touching my back as he followed us. I caught a glimpse of Riley glancing at us from the corner of her eye as we trudged our way down the hallway towards the elevator but she didn't say anything, didn't even make a sound of the gentle touching between us.

"So your finals are coming up soon, kiddies," Josh began. "Are you girls planning any way to celebrate your last year in college?"

"Not really -"

"Actually, I forgot to mention to you earlier, Peaches," Riley intruded. "I didn't want to talk about it around dad or he would have spazzed out. But I was talking to Charlie and the others on the way here and he said the rest of the group was thinking of going to this great hangout spot called…" she stopped for a moment, contemplating. "...The Press Lounge."

I choked on my own saliva. "The Press Lounge? Riley! We can't afford The Press Lounge!"

Riley winced at my outburst. "I know, I know. But the others thinking that pitching in a bit of our paychecks will be enough for us to get through the entrance and maybe a couple of drinks. We won't have to worry about going in if we make it before nine because girls get in free until then."

"Okay, but The Press Lounge?"

"We figure we end the year with a bang, y'know."

"My sweet, innocent niece is actually suggesting to go to a nightclub?" Josh gasped in awe. "What have you done to the happy, sunshine-skipping, unicorn-loving girl I knew, Maya?"

"I like to consider it a job well done, Boing," I smirked. He smiles pleasantly at me, obviously pleased to hear his old nickname again.

"So…" Riley said awkwardly. "Do you want to go, Peaches?"

"I don't think it's a good idea for you girls to go to that place," responded Josh. "There are creeps in those types of places and they go for girls in your age. They drug you up and take advantage of you."

"We're not little kids anymore, Uncle Josh," Riley retorted. "We know not to take drinks from strangers."

"It's not just the strangers, little niece, but the bartender," Josh countered. "Maybe I should come with you to keep a close eye on things. You know, bring a couple of my friends over so we can do our thing while you do yours."

Riley groaned in irritation, rolling her eyes, while stomping her feet like a toddler. I smiled in amusement; it is always funny to watch the Matthews squabble like this. It's like a live entertainment.

"Uncle Josh, we don't need you to babysit us," said Riley. "I already had that problem with my dad all my life and the whole point of me moving out is so I can have some independence for once. I can't have that if you're watching over me like a hawk."

"You moved out four years ago and I'm pretty sure you did a lot of things I didn't - and don't want to - know about. I think you got all the independence you need. And I'm just looking out for you - just because you're not a little kid, it doesn't mean you're suddenly aware of all the kinds of people in the world. Whether you like it or not, you can still be a little naive when it comes to trusting some people."

Riley gawked at him. "That's not true!"

"Hate to break it to you, honey, but it's true," I admitted. "Remember in freshmen year when those seniors had us trapped in that stupid hole? We were stuck in there for two weeks."

"They had their good reasons," Riley said. "And we did learn a valuable life lesson thanks to them."

"Yes - crushed spirits," I said sarcastically.

We reached the elevator and pressed the down button. It came quicker than expected and the doors slid open. Riley and I step inside the lift as Josh stood by the entrance, leaning his hand against the frame, holding the doors open.

"Look, just be careful at that place," he said nicely. "Don't accept drinks from others, don't -"

"Don't go to the bathroom alone," I remarked.

"Don't leave your purse at the table," Riley added.

"Don't leave your drink alone and if you do then get another one."

"Stay together with the group you came with."

"Don't get drunk."

"Alright, alright," Josh laughed. "You get the point."

"You finally get my drift then," Riley said in relief. She goes to press the button for the lobby. "We'll call you guys when we get home."

"Alright." Josh removes his hand from the frame and looks at me with a fond smile. "Maya."

I return the smile. "Josh."

He stood there, in a graceful demeanor, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, staring at me with those loving eyes that sets my skin on fire, leaving me dazzled until the door slide closed. I leaned back against the wall with a quick breath, placing my hand on my rapidly thumping heart as if it would help me calm it down, and I closed my eyes whilst I took long, slow breaths.

"Are you okay?" Riley asked curiously.

"Yeah," I said. _Aside from the fact that my heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest._ "So I guess we could go to The Press Lounge. Now that I think about it, I really need a night out."

"Got a lot on your mind?"

"More than."

"Am I gonna have to be the designated driver this time?"

"You're always the designated driver, Riles," I snorted. "You only got drunk one time and that's because you played beer bong for the first time."

"Ugh, don't remind me," Riley moaned.

I laughed at her reaction then went back to closing my eyes and lean my head back as I waited for the elevator ride to be over. I actually couldn't wait to hang out with the old group again and numb myself out from all the emotional stress. I have no doubt that Riley is gonna end up dragging me back home that night.

* * *

On Friday, around noon, I put my pen down with a relieved smile. I'm finished. I finally fucking finished with my final exam. A ridiculously, idiotic grin spreads over my face - I think this is the first time I had a real smile all week. Between being bitter about the whole situation of my mother and not having my younger brother around me as much as I want him to be, I couldn't really find any reasons of joy. Tonight was the night I'll let go of all of my inhibitions and possibly get drunk just for the hell of it.

I glance around the room, seeing some of other students taking a much needed nap or scribbling madly on their test packages. I look up at the ticking clock to see there are three minutes left until the end of my academic career and I'll never have to sit in this same stuffy room with these unbearable people. Inside my head, I am running up and down these rows, slapping these people's tests out of their hands and tossing the papers in the air without a care then jump on the teacher's desk and kicking his property around.

After three minutes passed, my art teacher, Ms. Cobb, rose up from her chair.

"Alright class, put down your pencils and pass down your test to Mister Mcalister," she said.

There was a series of disappointed groans and sighs of relief throughout the classroom as we all passed down our packages to Allan. Ms. Cobb approaches him and takes the stack from his desk.

"Class dismissed," she announced.

Everybody didn't hesitate to race out of the room, chatting among themselves about celebrations, an energetic vibe surfacing from the crowd, and cheering loudly with their friends. I took my time packing up my belongings, peering up at Ms. Cobb as she organized the tests in separate piles and started to grade them with ease. I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked down the row.

"Hey, Ms. Cobb?" I called out.

She didn't look up from the papers. "Yes, Miss Hunter?"

"I need to talk to you about the semester project," I said. "I'm having a bit of trouble with it."

Ms. Cobb pauses from grading the papers and looks up at me with her full attention. I fiddle with the strap of my bag. I was never comfortable talking to a teacher for help.

"What do you need?" she asked.

I didn't bother to beat around the bush. "I can't really find a good subject for it. I can't really find something that really explains what makes me incomplete and why."

"You never struggle with these sorts of projects, Miss Hunter."

"I know," I sighed. "This one has me blocked up."

Ms. Cobb twirls her pen between her fingers. "Do you remember what I said about this project? The purpose behind it?"

"To see whether or not there is everything in nothing," I recited with a light shrug. "In all honesty, I don't really understand that. I just know it has something to do with being incomplete."

Ms. Cobb lowered her bifocals from her eyes, letting it hang around her neck by the chain, and entwined her fingers together as she leaned against her desk with her elbows.

"Maya, the project has nothing to do with being incomplete," she said. "You have the project entirely wrong."

I knitted my brows together. "Then what's the project about?"

"The point of the project is to explain how you have everything but what you have lost something to gain it," she explained. "It's an old method I use to prep my students before graduation; when you go out starting your life, you're going to lose some things in order to gain some things and some things you get will make you feel like you lost everything."

"It sounds a lot like being incomplete to me," I remarked.

"No because being incomplete is when you know what is left out," she said. "The project, however, helps you reveal what you left behind to become the person you are now and be where you are. It's like a road of discovery. You're figuring things out as you go along."

I hummed in awe, very impressed by her insight of the project. I was a bit angry about myself for misunderstanding the point of the project. I could have finished it a long time ago instead of burning up my brain for idea.

"I think I get it now," I said. "Thanks for the help, Ms. Cobb."

"Anytime, Maya. Let me know if there's anything else you're doubting on."

"I will."

I gave her a grateful smile before I turned and left the classroom, feeling more sure of my dilemma. The only question is, what the hell am I supposed to paint about?

* * *

Riley and I head back home after I picked her up from her class, neither of us discussing about our final papers. Riley was actually more concerned of everybody's punctuality to the club and what she was going to wear ("I don't want to wear something that will make men think I'm seducing them but I don't want to seem like a prude! Ugh! Uncle Josh messed up my head!") I, on the other hand, am in the calm, dressed up and making sure I got everything for the night - pocketknife, house and car keys, mints, and portable charger. I also have Riley's pepper spray.

I heard a knock on the door and Riley went to open it. I head over to the kitchen to bring out our emergency empty water bottles from the cabinet, the bowl glasses from the wine glass rack, and the white wine from the freezer. I popped open the bottle to pour some into the glass before I filled up the water bottles with it.

"Peaches, there's a package for you," announced Riley as she entered the kitchen area, holding a somewhat big rectangle parcel. I stared at her oddly; I don't remember purchasing anything on Ebay recently. "It's a little heavy too."

I take the parcel from her and read the writing. It is addressed to Maya Hunter but there was no return address or the name of the sender. I'm not really close to any relatives back in Arkansa, Shawn always leaves a small doodle at the corner of his packages, and I didn't order anything.

"Who's it from?" Riley asked.

"I don't know," I murmured as I rip open the parcel and I nearly dropped it in shock when I saw what it contained; an identical replica of The Luncheon, Monet's Garden at Argenteuil in perfect condition with no smudges or tears or scratches. The marvelous bright colors, the beautifully blended shadows, and the well aligned shapes of the objects around it - it was all so breathless. There was also a small note on the corner of the canvas, a black ink cursive handwriting neatly written on it;

 _The further I get_

 _The more I regret_

 _How little I know_

 _That's what hinders_

 _Me the most_

That is one of the many famous quote by Claude Monet himself. I am completely stunned by the alluring sight of this exquisite piece of a faraway world. I rip away the rest of the parcel from the canvas and turn it over. Written in a forgotten elegance is:

 _Claude Monet (1873)_

Holy fucking shit. This is the original piece. This must be worth my entirely life. And I knew immediately who sent them - he was not as subtle as he thinks he is.

"That bastard," I whispered. I could feel Riley gazing over my shoulder, her breathing flowing past my ear, and she reaches around me to pluck the note off.

"Who is this from?" she questioned.

"No one important," I mumbled. Thank God that Riley doesn't know much about art. "Can't think of anyone who would send me this."

"Wait!" Riley gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Could it be from Lucas?"

I groaned and nodded. Damn her and her journalistic abilities. I liked it better when she was a naive twelve-year-old girl.

"Maya, I know you're done with this subject but I can't help it. He's really interested in you." Riley flips the note with her fingers. "From the looks of it, he really wants to see you again. He sounds hopeful."

I haven't allowed myself to ponder over Lucas Friar for the past week. I didn't want to think back of the haunted memory of the picture I did earlier of his delicious green eyes staring me down over a cup of leafy patterned coffee. Reminding myself of that would make me think of our intimate moment in front of the coffee house, of the sensation of his arms holding me closely and his hand touching my face with the utmost care. Why did he have to send this to me?

"What does this mean, though?" Riley inquired.

"It's a quote by Claude Monet," I responded. "I had a class discussion about it last semester. Pretty much, it's about him holding back from what he wants and that the longer he stays away from it, the more it hurts him for not going for it."

"I see," Riley muses. "He's obviously not being subtle here, Maya. He really wants to see you again - this gift must have cost a fortune. Maybe you should give him a call."

"It's not gonna happen. I'm sending these back to him first thing in the morning with a huge note that says ' _FUCK YOU!_ ' and hope he gets the message. That'll show him what subtle is."

Riley rolled her eyes, though, she was smiling. I rewrap the painting then carefully placed it on the counter. Riley hands me my glass of wine.

"For the end of our college life, and the start of our new lives," Riley toasted.

"For the end of our college life, and the start of our new lives, and better possibilities."

We clanked our glasses then took a quick swing of our drinks before we collected our stuff and made our way out of the apartment.

* * *

The bar is loud and hectic, full of soon to be graduates wanting to spend their last nights together getting wasted and hopefully hook up with someone they fantasized for the longest. The old group was merged together in one table nearby the glass wall, talking and catching up with old friends. Charlie barely made it but he managed to get past the bouncer and meet us at our spot. He got praised and congratulated from everyone for his success with Mr. Coppola and he gets us into the spirit of our newfound freedom by buying a pitcher of margaritas for us all.

As I downed my fourth shot of Kamikaze, I scan the active crowd, taking in the moving bodies, grinding against each other in a languid manner to the thumping, sensual music playing. I could almost smell all the sweat and arousal off of their bodies into the air, almost suffocating me from the stench.

There were couples who were blunt about their PDA. A woman is seen being pinned against a wall while her partner was slowly grinding against her and his mouth latched onto her throat. There was another couple, albeit being in a public area, was blatantly obvious of their activities as I can see the man's arm moving ferociously under the table, making the woman who he's forcing his tongue into squirm and pull on his hair.

I could see Maggie and Troy dancing along with the flow of the crowd, moving her hips to the sides while he held her against him. I snorted about those two before I took my fifth shot, grimacing at the bitter taste coating my tongue.

"So what are you gonna do after graduation, Maya?" my old high school chemistry partner, Austin Dillingham, shouts over the bass of the music. He was a bit too close to me with his arm around my shoulder and his face a bit close to mine.

"I don't know. I haven't really thought that ahead." I was honest; I didn't really think of what to do after I was finished with school. Most of me was determined to help Shawn find my mother and help raise Jonathan in the meantime.

"How about we hang out this summer?" Austin suggested. "My grandparents left me their beach house in Orchard Beach in their will."

I gave him an uneasy smile. "No thanks, Austin. I think I'm gonna hang out with Riley and my family this summer. I don't know where I'm gonna end up so better now than never, right?"

"True, true," he murmured. "You want to take some tequila shots?"

"If I didn't know any better, I say you're trying to get me drunk," I said sarcastically. "I think I'll just go get a margarita."

"Oh! Get me one too!" said Darby.

"Alright," I laughed. I move out of Austin's grasp and stand up from the table. I take a moment to regain my balance by holding onto the back of the chair when I felt my head spin for a second. Those cocktails are not my friend tonight.

I actually wasn't going to the bar. In reality, I needed to go to the bathroom. I'll get the margarita later. I stagger back inside the bar and through the bustling crowd towards to where I spotted the bathroom earlier. Unfortunately, to my rotten luck, there is a long line leading into the restroom but the bright side was that these girls also seemed too hammered to be aware of their surroundings or to speak a full sentence so I didn't need to worry about them trying to strike up a drunken conversation with me.

I lean against the wall next to this brunette with a bad perm and I pull out my cell phone to save myself from dying of boredom by playing a game. Although, my faulty mind was wrapped around this curiosity of who was the last number I had called. _Riley, Shawn, Riley, Topanga, Riley, Riley, Cory, Josh, Brandon, Riley, Shawn, Topanga, Sarah..._ Oh. Here is an unknown number I never seen before. Or have I? Oh, that's right. Friar. I think this is his number. Or was it the bank? I don't remember.

I bit my lip. If this is his number then I could tell him to shove the stick further up his ass. Honestly, if he wanted something with me then he should tell me and not fuck with my emotions like that. I tried to keep my focused gaze on my suddenly bright screen and tapped on the number then held my phone to my ear. I didn't really have to wait long - he answered on the third ring.

"Hello? Maya?" He sounded astonished to hear from me. My mind was slow to process his voice.

"You're a real prick," I answered with a slur in my words. The girl beside me lets out a giggle and I grinned.

"Maya, are you okay? You sound off," he demanded. I tried to not fall into the tingling of my ear at the sound of his husky voice.

"You're off," I countered. "You're a very, very off ass. You're so off you fall of the face of the Earth. You dick."

"You've been drinking."

"Like you care."

"Where are you?"

"Where else do girls go to drink, you jackass?"

"What bar are you in?" He sounded enraged right now, almost exasperated.

"Some bar in New York. Where else would I go? Las Vegas?"

"Did you drive there? Tell me you have someone as a designated driver."

"Not anymore," I giggled stupidly. "Riles is wasted. I think I am too."

"Which bar are you at?"

"Take back your stupid painting," I said. "It's so beautiful it makes me wanna throw up."

"Maya, I mean it, tell me where you are. Now." His tone was sturdy now, so very dictatorial. It was sexy. It was much of a turn on. I wonder how he would look dressed in a policeman's uniform while talking like that. Oh. Now that right there is a major turn on.

"Are you always so...demanding," I giggled once more.

"Maya, I swear to God, where the fuck are you?"

 _Whoa, Lucas Friar swearing at me. That is hot_. I couldn't stop giggling at the thought. "In the 11th...s'mere far away from you, Lone Star."

"I'm serious here."

"Good night, Ranger Rick."

"Maya!"

I hang up on him. I was feeling a bit lightheaded throughout the phone call. It was a while since I drank as much as I did tonight and I seem to have become a lightweight. My head was running circles as I shuffle down the slowly moving line. Actually, it wasn't really moving so slow - my mind was just playing tricks on me. I was already heading my way into one of the bathroom stalls before I knew it and as I stared at the toilet seat with unfocused eyes, the realization finally struck me; holy shit, did I just drunk call Lucas Fucking Friar?

My phone rings in my pocket, startling me out of my thoughts. I didn't look at the ID as I answered the call.

"Hello?" I was breathless.

"Don't ever hang up on me like that again," he responded strongly. "And stay put; I'm coming to get you."

He ends the call but I didn't move my phone from my ear as I was too shocked at the turn of events for the night. Lucas sounded highly pissed off and too calm that he might as well be threatening.

 _Shit_. I pull up my pants, flush the toilet, and barge out of the stall. My heart was thumping harshly in my ears. I couldn't register in the fact that Lucas might actually come to get me. Wait, hang on. He's messing with me. He doesn't know where I am - I didn't tell him where I was specifically. And he was also hours away from me so by the time he got here, I will most likely have gone home. I quickly wash my hands and dry them before I sprint out of the bathroom.

I wait at the bar for what felt like an eternity until the bartender came with my order of a pitcher of margarita and returned to the table. The group cheered in glee at my presence - or rather of the alcohol - and held up their glasses towards me as I poured the margarita in.

"Took you long enough, Maya!" shouted Darby. "For a moment, I thought you got trampled."

"Ooh, a short person joke," I rolled my eyes. "I never heard one before. How original."

Riley was talking to Charlie about his planned activities for when he goes to California and scheduling their days to FaceTime each other. I went over to her to tap on her shoulder and she paused from her conversation with Charlie to turn to me expectedly.

"I need to talk to you," I said.

Riley didn't miss a beat as she stood up and followed me to a few feet away from the group, far away enough to be out of earshot.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I called Lucas," I answered abruptly.

Riley's eyes widen. "Are you serious?"

I nodded meekly. "I don't know why I did it but I did. And the call didn't turn out so well. I guess he didn't like hearing me wasted and he said he's coming to get me."

Riley gawked at me. "Oh my God, Maya!"

"I know!"

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know!"

"Are you gonna meet up with him?"

"Should I? I mean he could be bluffing."

"Maya, I doubt a guy would say they're coming to get you if they're bluffing. He send you that expensive painting and a coded note that literally says he hates being away from you. He isn't bluffing."

I swallowed down the lump that formed in my throat. "You think I should wait for him?"

"Yes!" Riley urged. "Go and wait for him by the elevator. Keep your phone on you."

"Okay."

"Wait!" She pulled me back by the arm when I turned away. "I don't want you to go alone. Take someone with you."

"Who?"

It was way too easy. It was like a loud mating call. Austin had approached us with two bottles of Heineken and a goofy grin.

"Beer for the lovely lady," he said as he handed me one of the cool bottles.

"Thanks," I replied. Riley gives me a pointed look then gives me a squeeze on my shoulder before she went back to the group.

I didn't really feel comfortable to be alone with Austin - he's been very touchy this night with me. He would have some excuse to graze his fingers on any visible part of my skin. Even though, he and I did have our funny moments during high school, I never really saw him as a friend I would want to make plans with and spend a day with.

"I need to go outside and get some fresh air," I stated.

"Alright."

I didn't have a second thought nor did I look back at Austin as I made my way through the crowd again, knowing he was following behind me closely. I was beginning to feel a little nauseous. My head felt like it was floating away from my shoulders and my steps were a bit unsteady. Almost too uncoordinated. Especially in my heels. My vision was slightly blurry and everything I pass by would be seen double.

I think I'm gonna be sick. I shouldn't have let myself get this fucked up.

We stood by the elevator doors, talking about our good times and what we've been up to since we last saw each other. We'd clink the necks of our bottles then finish up our drinks and Austin would go up to the bar to get another round. When he returns, we'd go back to the flow of our conversation and laugh at the people who spiral down from their many tequila shots.

The faint sound of the bass coming from the loud speakers could be heard outside. Drunken adults are seen stumbling out, shouting gibberish to each other from across the room, and desperate couples are seen clawing at each other's clothes while tripping over their own feet. Austin and I got a good laugh out of it.

"Maya," I heard Austin's voice call out for me. "You good?"

I didn't notice I was standing in front of the elevator doors like a statue, swinging an empty beer bottle like a mindless zombie.

"I think I drank too much," I chuckled.

"Same here," said Austin, staring at me intently with his uneven hazel eyes. He slowly slips his arm around my waist and pulls me in close. "You know, Maya, I don't think I ever told you this before but I had a huge crush on you back in junior year and I thought you were the prettiest girl I ever seen."

 _Oh no. This isn't good. Austin's sober thoughts were coming out of his drunken mouth._ I always felt that Austin held some sort of unexplainable attraction towards me but I never dwelled on it because I never cared and I could never see him as more than another guy I know.

"Thanks," I said uneasily. Standing in the cold while intoxicated was not the best idea. I was feeling drunk and with Austin confessing his feelings for me, I regret ever bringing him out here with me.

"I like you, Maya." Austin takes a step closer to me and I arch back.

"Back off, Austin," I warned.

In a swift motion, he hooked his arm around me and pulled me close to him, his bottle hitting my lower back. "Maya, I like you. I liked you since junior year." He has one hand at the small of my back holding me against him, the other at my chin tipping back my head. _Holy fuck... he's going to kiss me. What is it with everybody touching my face?_

"Austin, get your hands off of me!" I give him a push but it was a bit light since I couldn't really find it in me to muster up any strength to shove him to the ground.  
"Maya, please," he whispered.

"No Austin, stop - no." I push him, but he's like a wall of stoned hard muscle, and I cannot slip away from him. His hand has slipped into my hair, and he's holding my head in place.

"Please, Maya, baby," he whispers against my lips. His breath is soft and smells too sweet - of margarita and beer. He gently trails kisses along my jaw up to the side of my mouth. I feel drunk, scared, and I was breathing heavily out of anxiety, feeling my lungs were going to pop.

"Austin, let me the fuck go," I plead. I think I'm going to throw up. If by any miracle, that'll save me. "I said let go!" I shouted, now eager to get him off of me. I don't like this. I don't like this at all. He's too close - he's touching me - he's kissing me - I feel dirty.

"Hey!" a deep voice screamed loudly from behind me, startling me out of my panicking thoughts, and before I could process what was happening, Austin was seen being tugged away from me and was thrown to the floor with a bone-breaking thud. I almost tipped over by the pull but a warm arm kept me steady and I felt I was leaning against a supportive weight.

With dazed eyes, I look up through my lashes to find myself staring at a pair of emerald green eyes glowering in red rage and light sandish-brown hair hair glowing under the flickering strobe lights. I suppressed a gasp even though he doesn't seem like he would hear it from the music and the fact he has his attention on the groaning Austin on the floor. _Oh my fuck. Lucas is here. How?_

Before I could reply, Austin had gotten up, disheveled and intoxicated, and he worked up a charge towards Lucas' direction. At first, I was worried he was going to tackle us both to the ground but Lucas had pulled me behind me before Austin came in contact and I was baffled that he only managed to nudge him. He didn't even move from his spot. He was still like a brick wall. No matter how many times Austin tried to knock him back, he never succeeded. It was surprising because Austin was in the wrestling team back in school and he always pinned his opponents down in less than a minute so to see him struggling to push Lucas down was foreign.

As I watched Austin grow visibly frustrated with his failed attempts, I eyed Lucas suspiciously. Where did he come from? How did he know where I was? Has he been here before? It wasn't a coincidental guess that I was here. Then again, I can't complain by his perfect timing. He did save me from an awkward situation that could have damaged me later on. What the hell was Austin thinking? I don't care if he was influenced by alcohol or not, he definitely crossed a line with me.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, man?" Austin spat. He had beads of sweat dripping from his forehead and his muscles were seen flexed in defense.

"She said no," Lucas growled. "What part of that didn't you understand?"

"It's none of your business, asshole. This is between me and Maya. Get the fuck out of here."

I could hear some slight murmurs circulating around us and I look around to see people slowly shifting around us, their phones out to record for the brawl they are anticipating to happen between these two. Crap. My stomach isn't taking it so well - I could feel it churning and swishing. The adrenaline and the fear of the conflict was not a good mixture to feel while drunk. With a deep breath, I heaved and doubled over to retch all over the ground, feeling my body betray me.

Lucas had jumped back in surprise and Austin loudly gagged in disgust. I could hear the small crowd groan and moan as they began to walk away from the scene - I guess they don't have a strong stomach. Lucas quickly recovered and pulled my hair back in a makeshift ponytail while carefully holding me. I secretly thank him for that kind gesture.

"Easy now," Lucas instructed softly into my ear. "Try taking deep breaths in between. It won't hurt your back as much."

I try to push him back but my stomach was not done. I continued to vomit all over the polished - well not anymore - marble floor, feeling the torture of my hunched back being wrecked by the dry heaves and limited times to regain my breath. I am reminded now why I don't do parties anymore. From now on, I am swearing under a silent oath to never drink to this point ever again.

When I finally finish, I am gasping for air - dumping everything from your stomach at the same time was exhausting. Lucas guides me to a chair closeby and sets me down whilst he kneels in front of me. He pulls out a handkerchief and tentatively wipes the remains of my vomit from my lips and chin. I caught a glimpse of his initials on it; LGF. I wonder what the G stands for.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, keeping my eyes on his collarbone. He was wearing a black shirt with the first buttons undone and I could see the patch of bare skin greeting me openly. I didn't want to look at him. I feel so ashamed, disgusted, and downright exposed even though I am fully clothed. My head is swimming in alcohol and irritation.

"I told you I was coming to get you," he said lowly. "You sounded completely out of it on the phone call. Luckily, I came on time or who knows what they guy would have done. I understand it's a Friday night, Maya, but you really should consider your safety first before going all out like this."

I glared up at him. Was he seriously scolding me like I was some sort of child?

I noticed I made the mistake of looking at him in the eyes. Those intense and alluring green eyes that were focused on me, only me. Warmth rose to my cheeks. Damn it. He always makes me feel so flustered and excited at the same time. The rush of having him near me left me puzzled and somewhat fearful. My breathing grew short as I could feel my chest rise and fall faster. How was he doing this to me?

"I can go out and drink as much as I want, Huckleberry," I said. "You're in no position to tell me what to do with my life. Besides, it's not the first time I got drunk."

Lucas's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed dangerously. For a moment, I thought he was going to yell at me but I was beginning to feel faint and I think he noticed it as well. I hoists me up in his arms, cradling me like I was a fragile child.

"I'm taking you home," he murmured. "I think you had enough excitement for one night, not to mention you're not in the right state of mind to be around these people."

"I'm not going anywhere with you, Heehaw," I grumbled. If I wasn't so wasted, I'd give myself a pat in the back for all these clever nicknames naturally spewing out of me. It would be better if it bothered him in some way but he seemed unaffected like he did that day in the office.

"Maya," he sighed. "Just listen to me. I'm trying to help you."

"I'm not leaving Riley."

"My sister is here. She'll make sure she's safe and sound."

"What?" I blinked. Did I hear him right.

"My sister, Chai, is currently inside talking to Riley right now," he explained. "She was with me when I got your call."

"Oh." I was still dumbfounded. I barely understand anything we're saying right now. "How'd you find me?"

"It's not that hard to track someone's phone nowadays."

 _Stalker much_ , a voice hisses in the back of my mind, somehow, managing to pierce through the cloud of tequila surrounding my brain. I should have known. Mister big shot probably had his best computer hackers trace the signal of my phone.

"Where are your belongings?" Lucas asked.

"With Riley," I slurred with a light hiccup. "I need to see her. I'm not leaving her alone."

He stares at me for a long minute, his lips pressed in a hard line, until he sighs heavily and nods.

"If it's that important." He reaches from his back pocket and takes out a silver flask with a gorgeous engraving of Chinese symbols on it. He unscrews the cap and holds it out to me. "Drink this first - it's water," he added when he noticed the suspicious look on my face. "I figured you're gonna need it."

I take the flask from him and took a cautious sip. Once I realized it is water, I took a bigger swing.

"Make sure to drink all of it," he demanded. He didn't give me a chance to talk back as he trapped my hand in his and started to drag me back inside the bar. I was still faint from my puking, still slightly drunk, and mortified of what had transpired.

The music was now rapid, more upbeat, and the crowd was reaching their highest peak of the vibe of the night as they were now covering the dance floor with their lewd body moves and shamelessly doing the deed in the dark corners. Pushing past them was not a difficulty for Lucas and we were already close to the table where my group was. Half of them were not there - probably sweating their lives away on the dance floor - Austin was nowhere to be seen but I was relieved to see Riley was still by the table talking to this unknown lady I never seen before.

 _That must be Lucas's sister,_ I thought. _She's...really pretty_.

She has honey brown hair flowing over her shoulders and back like loose waves. Her skin was unblemished, fair, and looked velvety smooth. She has perfect eyebrows, lovely lips, and onyx eyes.

"I thought your sister was in Europe," I shouted over the music.

"Her classes finished on Tuesday," Lucas said. "She flew in yesterday and she will be back next month for graduation."

He moves us through the throng of suggestively dancing people to the table and we were standing behind Riley and Lucas' sister, Chai. They seem too engrossed in their conversation to notice our presence. The music was making my head pound so hard that I think I could hear my skull vibrating and my brain shuddering against my bones. It was beginning to hurt a lot.

Lucas leaned down to shout in Chai's ear. I cannot hear what he was saying. I could see Riley sending me a knowing look and a thumbs up with a giddy grin. I tried to not blush in embarrassment. Whatever it was that Lucas told her, Chai nodded in agreement and leaned closer to Riley to whisper in her ear with a grin. Riley shouts out a quick "Let's go!" before she slides out of the table, pulling Chai with her by the hand and they both skip towards the dance floor where the rest of the group was.

 _Wha - Riley!_ I was appalled. _Did Riley seriously just leave me alone with Lucas? And to go with Chai, someone she just met? Since when does Riley dance?_

"My sister will make sure Riley gets home safe," Lucas reassured me.

But it still didn't bring me any comfort. I am too flabbergasted of everything that is happening tonight. My thoughts, my emotions, were colliding with the fuzzy feeling tickling my brain. I suddenly feel so hot. The room feels so warm, the music was too loud for my ears, the lights were so colorful - too bright. My head begins to lose it again - my vision on Lucas was not normal - there were three of him and his face was slowly deforming into a unpleasant swirl. Oh no.

"You're...you're s-spinning," I stuttered. I was starting to gently sway to the sides.

Lucas' eyebrows rose. "What?"

"I think I'm gonna pass out."

"Right now?"

I think I might have answered his question. Because everything went black after that.

* * *

 **Please Review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Girl Meets World, the characters, the locations, the songs or quotes mentioned. But I do own this plot.**

 **A/N: I want to apologize to your guys for my long hiatus. I've been so busy with work and have been getting sick a lot recently that I didn't have enough time to touch my laptop. So far work is dying down and I am getting better so hopefully I'll be able to upload FSOT and FM a lot more now. Thank you to all who were so patient for this upload, I really appreciate it.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _"To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves."_

\- Federico Garcia Lorca

* * *

 _I put a spell on you_

 _Because you're mine_

 _You better stop the things you do_

 _I tell you I ain't lyin'_

 _I ain't lyin'_

 _You know I can't stand it_

 _You're runnin' around_

 _You know better than that_

 _I can't stand it_

 _Because you put me down_

\- I Put A Spell On You; Annie Lennox

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: Vanilla Latte**

Something was vibrating. I couldn't tell if it was my head or something else. But I didn't move; I feel so warm and comfortable. Something was wrapped around me. Kind of like a cocoon. Something soft was beneath me, sort of like a cloud. And the scent was heavenly. What was that? Vanilla? Lavender? It was addictive.

"Hmm…" I hummed in delight as my eyes flutter open, my vision nothing but a haze. I let out a deep yawn as I stretched out my arms, popping my strained limbs, and arching my back slightly for good measure before I dropped back into the huge blob of marvelous cushion beneath me with a satisfied sigh. I blink a couple of times to take away the grogginess in my eyes and my eyesight was clear again.

The first thing I noticed was that the walls surrounding me were pure white. I was crowded by a crowd of pillows to support my head. Behind me was a large square headboard. There was a giant flatscreen television molded into the wall nearby the huge window - which, I am pleased to see was shut by the velvet red curtains - two tiny tables holding beige lamps and in the corner there was a small dining set for one person. Next to my bed was a door that I think leads to a bathroom. There was an entrance with no door at the foot of the bed where I could see a small peek of what I think is the living room.

I sigh and close my eyes. Everything felt so serene and tranquil. There was no noise of cars honking, people shouting at each other, the faint noises of the train racing along the rattling tracks, or of my neighbors being obnoxiously loud as the mothers scolded their children and the elders loudly talking. It was all peaceful, calm. I could go back to sleep and let the morning haze keep me at bay.

Except, it couldn't. Because this all felt so wrong.

My eyes pop open as I shot up from the mountain of pillows and frantically looked around me, now feeling a sheer sense of panic at the fact that I did not know where I was. This wasn't my room. That isn't my TV. This bed isn't mine. Where is Riley?

There was a vibration coming from one of the tables. I glanced at it to see my cellphone plugged into some wireless charger. I immediately reach for it and turn on the screen. It was seven-forty-two in the morning on a Saturday. Oh no. It was the weekend - _Jonathan!_

I check at all my recents and I let out a groan at the amount of times everybody tried to contact me.

 _ **78 missed calls.**_

 _ **112 messages.**_

 _ **70 voicemails.**_

The majority were from Cory, Topanga, and Josh. Each of them demanding to tell me where I was and to call them back soon or they were going to call the cops on me. I only had one of each from Riley and she didn't sound so worried in them. She sounded mostly smug and content. That oddly kept me at ease because Riley would have been the most insane if I had gone missing and probably would do anything dramatic to find me.

 **Honeybunch:** _You're probably sleeping right now but I just wanted to let you know I made it home okay. Chai kept me company the whole night. I'll called my parents and let them know that you're too sick to take care of Jon this weekend. Let me know when you're on your way home. I can't wait to hear everything. Love you, Peaches!_

That was all that Riley sent me at three in the morning. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Who's Chai?

I didn't bother to think about it too much - mostly because my mind hasn't woken up yet and my head was throbbing painful from the massive hangover I'm going through. I place the phone back on the table when I noticed there was a glass of cool orange juice and two pills next to it. Beside them were two small signs; one said _Drink Me_ and the other said _Eat Me_. I raised a suspicious brow. No signature. I'd rather take my chances with the hangover.

I slide off of the satin bed, feeling shivers crawl up my legs as my feet touch the cold carpet floor, and I slowly around the bed, feeling like an intruder breaking into somebody's home. The place wasn't particularly dark but it wasn't bright either; the light gleaming against the closed curtains was the usual light grey-white light of an early start of a morning but it was somehow darker. That was when I heard it; the same growl that occupied my ears in the most displeasing days of New York, along with the sound of pitter-pattering thudding against the window.

I reach the window and pull the curtains apart only to let out an aggravated groan.

A thick curtain of rain showered over the city of New York, sprinkling on top of the buildings, spraying over any trees, and turning the sidewalks below into a watery slide. But that wasn't the worst part. The rain was accompanied by a wave of forceful wind - blowing through the trees, breaking apart any branches, tearing apart any newsstands, and knocking someone's hat off their heads. I could see people fighting against the storm, trying to hold onto their umbrellas and coats. It was bad enough I am suffering a major hangover but this is just ridiculous.

I turn away from the window and walked out of the bedroom. I didn't even make it two steps in and I had to stop abruptly because I was stunned at the sudden dazzling view of the living room. It looked like one of those designed rooms from those rich people catalogues; the whole west and north side of the room was a window with the curtains folded upward, letting the rising morning to spill in, another flatscreen with an amazing television set, marble wood dining area with a mini chandelier, white furniture, and a furry carpet in the center of it all. Turn by the corner, past the large plant beside me, was a clean kitchen with steel surfaces.

And no sign of another person in this place. Where am I?

I walk inside the kitchen and open the refrigerator. Empty. So this person wasn't here to stay. I close the fridge and lean against the counter, crossing my arms, as I tried to rattle my brain awake, fighting through the throbs of the hangover. Fractures of the night before flooded my mind - my old high school friends - dancing - endless rounds of alcohol - and...and...I let out a gasp. The phone call. I remember drunk calling Lucas. And then...oh...the vomiting and Austin - I shuddered. I don't even want to think about the things he tried to do to me. I don't remember what happened after that. Everything was blank. I can't even pinpoint how I got here in this exclusive room.

Suddenly, the sound of the front door opening and closing brought me out of my thoughts, and I turn to the sound of heavy footsteps. It took a lot of willpower for me to not gasp at who I see enter the room. My heart leapt into my throat and was suffocating me. I couldn't find my voice. I couldn't believe it was him out of all people. Why? Why Lucas Fucking Friar? Two billion men walk the Earth and I have the worst luck ever to be with the one who irritates me the most.

 _Holy fuck. Was he working out?_

He strolls in the room he proudly owns in a blue shirt that was now drenched and a pair of black Nike sweatpants that hung low on his hips, holding a takeout bag. His hair, now a dark brown, was glistening and the drops were dripping down on the side of his face, sliding along the line of his strong jaw. His shirt was clinging onto him like a second layer of skin, showing the obvious outlines of his bulging muscles, and the tendons of his arms were visible. He was also breathing heavily.

 _Yup. Definitely working out._

Lucas runs his hand through his sweaty hair and shook his head a little bit before he finally noticed me standing here. I pursed my lips and traced my nails over my arms. All he did was look at me and I am acting like some sort of high school freshmen.

"Good morning, Maya," he said casually. _Oh. Are we back to first name basis now?_

"Morning," I mumbled.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as he headed over to the small dining table and placed the bag on it.

"I've been worse."

"Have you taken the medication I left you?"

"No."

He turned to me with skeptical eyes. "How come?"

"Let me think," I said sarcastically. "I wake up in someone else's room, not knowing how I got here or who I came here with, and the first thing I should do is take pills. Doesn't sound so smart if you ask me."

Lucas smirked. "Well, neither is torturing yourself with a dreadful hangover."

I tried to not wince as another painful throb hits against my temple but Lucas seem to notice this and immediately went to the bedroom to bring out the glass of orange juice and Advil he left for me. He placed them in my hands without a thought, his eyes staring intently into my own, and a stern frown painted on his marble lips.

"Take them," he said before he turned to me and went back to the dining table.

I wanted to throw the tablets against his head but then another painful thud against my temple made me think otherwise and I quickly downed them with the juice. I lick my lips and set the empty glass down as I watch Lucas take out containers from the bag to set them on the dining table, his back turned towards me.

"I apologize for the state that you're in," he said suddenly, never looking back at me. "I sent Joey to get you some new clothes hours ago but the rain had caused traffic. He'll be here shortly."

My brows furrowed. "Why did you do that?" I questioned.

Lucas stopped setting up the table and looked back at me incredulously. "Have you not noticed the way you've been dressed? I'm pretty sure you didn't go to the club dressed like _that_."

Confused, I glance down at myself only to let out a mortified gasp. I was dressed in a baggy shirt. And only a baggy shirt. No jeans, no shoes. Luckily I was wearing my bra and panties. But it was the fact that he was seeing me this way that has me flabbergasted. I look up at him through my lashes and my face boils when I see the amusement in his eyes.

"Fuck you," I growled.

"It isn't my fault you didn't look at yourself in the mirror when you woke up, Maya," he answered nonchanlantly, turning back to the containers and started pouring the food onto the silver plates. "But don't worry - Joey isn't too far away with the clothes."

"You brought me here," I stated. As if that isn't obvious. Of course, he brought me here. If not then I would have probably be in some dark alley or worse at another stranger's house.

"That I did," he confirmed. "It was a bit of a struggle to do it. After you passed out, I had to carry you out of the club without bumping into any other drunk and things were beginning to get handsy at that point."

"What about Riley?"

"I can assure you that Miss Matthews is fine. My sister stayed with her throughout the entire night and is most likely still with her back at the apartment."

"I threw up?"

"Unfortunately. That's why I sent Joey to get you a new set of clothes. Yours was covered in vomit."

I cringed. How gross. Me and my stupidity.

"You put me to bed."

"Yes."

"Then...did you undress me?"

"Yes."

I bit my lip and looked away from him as I took deep, slow breaths, trying to remain calm at all of this. I kept thinking about Riley being safe at home so I wouldn't let my mind wander over the fact that this man, Lucas Friar, had seen me partially naked and in my plain undergarments. I didn't want that to consume me because I don't want to have a meltdown from the thought of his hands touching me or his eyes staring at me in the nude or that the both of us had -

"We didn't have sex," said Lucas, bringing me out of my haunting mind, and I blinked up at him. His face was impassive. "You were unconscious, Maya. I hate to break it to you but I don't find necrophilia appealing. I like my women responsive in a certain way. And even if you were, I wouldn't have done anything to you - you were intoxicated. I wouldn't have taken advantage of you like that."

I was stunned and actually surprised. I didn't think he would say all of that stuff to me, let alone know what I was thinking. Maybe I wasn't the very first girl in his life who got drunk and he nurse back to health.

"Oh...thanks, I guess," I murmured.

His lips curl upward in a crooked grin. "Although, I must admit, it was an entertaining night. I don't think I would forget it even if I tried."

Is this bastard laughing at me? I glared up at him, not wanting to make my embarrassment obvious, and feeling insulted at the same time. Me being drunk and almost raped by an old classmate is not the least bit amusing. And he is an asshole for making a joke out of it. I don't care how kind he was to bring me here and take care of me.

"I didn't ask for you to come and get me like some damned western hero, Hop-A-Long," I sneered. "Just because you used your secret Inspector Gadget crap to track me down like some sort of stalker, doesn't mean I have to take your crap about me being drunk, thank you very much."

He looked taken aback from my outburst and, if I admit it, a little hurt by it but I just stood there with my hands on my hips and my face hard. For a second, his eyes grew soft and the face of his face was visible in vulnerability that I nearly broke down until he blinked and all gentle faces disappeared as he bristled. Now it was my turned to be shocked. Wasn't he just sad a few seconds ago?

Lucas marches up to me until he was directly in front of me, towering over my small frame, glowering down at me with those fiery green eyes, and it took a lot of willpower in me to not step back from him. I was a little freaked out by him now; one minute he looked like a pained puppy and the next he is this man made out of roaring fire. I wasn't sure what was going through his mind right now and I'm not sure I want to even find out.

"Firstly, it doesn't take a genius to know the way on how to track down your damned cellphone - secondly, I was trying to have a civil conversation with you so you don't need to bite my head off - lastly, you did call and it's a good thing you did or otherwise you wouldn't be here right now, safe from any moron in that club who would have taken advantage of you without a second thought. You probably would have ended up in your friend's bed if it weren't for me. I suggest you be a bit more appreciative when people go out of their way to help you, Maya," he added acidly.

I couldn't find my voice again. I was too in awe at the harsh tone of his voice. His eyes were blazing red through the green, his jaw was clenched tightly, and he was breathing heavily, almost like he was trying to calm himself after his lecture. I could actually feel myself trembling under his gaze but I wasn't sure if it was out of fear. It wasn't the kind where I am paralyzed and mind blank. There was an aching sensation in the pit of my stomach - my heart felt like it was about to burst at any moment - and I was struggling to not breathe deeply as if I was out of breath - what was happening to me?

Lucas stares at me for another minute, his eyes roaming over my face until they landed on my lips, and I subconsciously bit them, a terrible habit of mine for when I am confused or nervous. I wasn't sure which one I am at the moment. His nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply, his eyes wildly wide, and he quickly turned away from me, his hands now two shaking fists, as he walked back to the dining table. I blinked. What the fuck?

"You must be famished," he said. "I'm assuming you didn't have a big meal last night and that's why you fell ill. You don't look like you eat enough."

I pressed my lips together. "Are you gonna keep on scolding me as if you were my dad? I already have two of those. I don't need another one."

"Is that how it sounds like to you?" He sounded oddly intrigued.

"Definitely."

"Consider yourself lucky that I'm only scolding you, Maya," he replied gruffly. He then comes back to me with a steaming plate of breakfast, the aroma making my mouth watery and stomach rumble, and he hands it to me. "Eat," he commands. "I'm going to take a shower."

"What do you mean, I'm lucky?" I inquired before he could walk away. He looked at me expectantly. "Would you have done anything else besides scolding me?"

Why am I asking him this? It doesn't matter what he would have done. He doesn't have any right to talk to me like I'm some sort of child to begin with.

A small smile breaks through Lucas's stone face as he cocked his head to the side, stunning me into dumbfounded silence, and he brings up his hand to my face, letting his long fingers softly caress my cheek with feathery brushes. It was light and simple but it was enough to have my heart going insane as I kept my gaze steady with his. My medulla oblongata wasn't functioning correctly to let my brain breathe and I was beginning to feel lightheaded as he trailed his hand down to the side of my neck, feeling his fingers glide over my rapidly thumping pulse.

His smile grew. "Eat - I bought a whole breakfast menu for you because I didn't know what you prefer. Don't let the food go to waste and save some for me."

He turned away from me, walked towards to where the bedroom is, and left me alone in my rambling thoughts.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding as soon as I heard the bathroom door close and I place the plate on the counter behind me in fear I might drop it because of my shaking fingers then I leaned against the counter so I would tumble because of my buckling knees. _Holy shit_. So many things are happening to me right now; my cheek and neck were tingling from where he touched them, my ribs were barely able to keep my beating heart caged in, my balance was gone, and I forgot how to breathe.

I close my eyes and inhale deeply, trying to clear my mind. I am insanely impressed by all of this. Lucas Friar really had a point when he said he saved me from Austin's intentions. He is amazing for doing something that most people won't do but he was so fucking annoying at the same time. He's so complex. One minute he is inviting me to a coffee date to get to know me better, the next he is distant from me, then he sends me a original painting that is worth more than my life, and later he tracks me down like he was my personal stalker.

I don't understand him. What's his game? It doesn't seem like sex is on his mind because he would have done that when I was drunk. Then what could it be? What does he want from me? He definitely isn't looking for a relationship like Riley seems to think so yet he doesn't look like he is trying to cut all ties with me either. What does he want?

I grit my teeth. This is so annoying. It's hurting my head. He had his chances last night to take what most guys want from me but he didn't. He had a whole night to do that but he didn't. Does that mean he cares about? No, ridiculous. He barely knows me. But he did care enough to come after me. Still, it could have been anything to make him do what he did. Possible guilt. A conscience.

"Maya?"

I was snapped back into reality at the sound of his deep, husky voice calling out to me and I peered over my shoulder to see him emerging from the bedroom, moist skin from the shower, and wearing a pair of white sweatpants. Just sweatpants. I gulped and quickly turned away from him, staring ahead at the kitchen cabinets as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. _Good God_. He is ripped. His torso was wide and looked smooth, his lower half was sculpted into six packs, and his pants hung low enough for me to see the V-section that was lead down by a neatly trimmed trail of hair. _Oh God_ \- I could feel that unbearable ache in my stomach again.

"You still haven't eaten?" he sighed in exasperation and I could sense him approaching me. "You need to eat, Maya."

"I'm taking a shower," I answered quickly before I grabbed a piece of toast from the plate and sprinted past him then towards the bathroom in the bedroom without giving him a chance to respond. Although, I could have sworn I heard him chuckle under his breath.

Inside the bathroom, the room was still steamy and hot, the glass of the shower door and the mirror were fogged up. I strip myself of the shirt and my undergarments before I hop inside the shower then turned the knob, anxious to wash out any remains of Lucas' touches marked over any part of my body he might had brushed over from the previous night. The moment the water started pelting down on my, I sighed in relief, as the heat began to thaw out my cold skin and spilled warmth into my tense muscles. I was feeling clean again. I didn't feel like some disgusting, wretched whore touched by some random man.

I lean against the wall and let my mind flow as the water continued to rain down on my face, my neck, my whole body. I probably shouldn't have done that. My thoughts immediately went back to Lucas and his words; _I like my women responsive in a certain way_. What kind of way did he like his women? The kind who is willing to do all kinds on the bed? Or the easy kind to get to bed? If so, that means he isn't celibate. But if he isn't then why hasn't he made a move on me like Austin or Josh did? It doesn't explain a lot. He had me in his bed but he didn't try to kiss me or touch me. At least, that's what he claimed.

I touch my lips, tracing my fingertips over the chapped skin. No. He would not want to kiss this. I shrug it off as I stepped beneath the running current, dipping my head forward as if it would wash off my wandering thoughts of him and I kept my eyes at the water falling into the drain. I could see a bit of brown mixed in the water. Geez, I must have been a complete mess last night. I reach over for the AXE body wash and when I pop it open, I was consumed by the heady scent, feeling my body shiver at the scent. This is why he smells so good every time. It smells delicious.

I take a small amount and started to rub it over myself. I close myself while I focus on the sensation of the water hitting my skin and intoxicate myself with the arousing scent of what makes Lucas Friar. I feel like he was here with me - fantasizing him cleansing my body from any dirt or grime, rubbing his long fingers deeply into the skin of my breasts, my stomach, over my thighs, and in between - oh God. My heartbeat doubled. That feels so good.

I was about to lose myself when I knock on the door had startled me back into reality.

"Joey came with your clothes, Maya," Lucas' voice boomed through the closed door. "I laid them out for you on the bed."

"Okay," I stuttered out, not really understanding how I was able to speak as I was in absolute disbelief at the fact that I had fallen into an erotic dream. One with Lucas Friar. How the fuck did that happen?

I stumble out of the shower and reach for one of the towels on the rack. I hastily towel my hair until it was semi-dry then run it over my body, ignoring the reminder of what I dreamt of in the shower, before I wrapped the towel around my overly sensitive skin, and stopped for a minute to take a deep breath. I know it was my nerves making me unusually clumsy and acting erratic. I blame it on the damned body wash.

I finally leave the bathroom, cautiously looking around to make sure he wasn't anywhere in sight, and once I was sure the bedroom was empty, I head over to the bed. There, laid out perfectly on the covers, was a black striped long-sleeved shirt with a black skater skirt and a pair of ankle boots. There are also lingerie next to them. They weren't just simple lingerie - they have a Victoria's Secret tag and...this is the new collection that just came out not too long ago. How did he get these? They are expensive.

I scowled. I hate this. I don't want expensive crap from popular boutiques or made by famous designers. They are ridiculously high priced for no reason and they could be found sold in the thrift stores I used to get my clothes from, like Demolition. I'd rather wear the same clothes I went out in yesterday. But unfortunately, they were covered in dirt and vomit. I sighed in irritation. _Way to go, Hunter._

I quickly dressed up. I'm impressed to find that the outfit fits perfectly and the shoes were in the right size. I run the towel through my hair once more before I shook my head to air-dry and then I went to get my purse on the nightstand to get my phone. I saw that I have three new messages from Josh. They had transitioned from worrisome to what I think is jealousy.

 **Josh (8:12 AM):** _Maya, where are you? We're all worried about you. Please tell me you're ok._

 **Josh (8:33 AM):** _Riley won't answer her phone either. Are you two back home? I'm heading over there if I don't hear from either of you in an hour. Please call me when you get this._

 **Josh (9:02 AM):** _Just talked to Riley. Told me you're with a friend. Nice to know you're ok. Have a good morning._

I groaned. _Riley what did you tell him?_

It's too early for drama. I'll call him later and explain everything. I shove the phone in my purse and enter the living room area after I took another deep breath.

I didn't have to look for Lucas that long; he was sitting at the dining table, typing away rapidly on his highly advanced Apple laptop, with a newspaper splayed out in front of him and a breakfast meal set up in front of him. I stare at him oddly. Who reads the newspaper nowadays? I glance around me. There was no sign of Joey anywhere - I guess Lucas sent him home. I'd do the same thing if I ever made my bodyguard buy lingerie for a woman he doesn't know. Save the man from any more embarrassment.

I guess Lucas heard my heels as I walked because he peered over his laptop and he formed a polite smile. I tried to not be distracted at the fact he was still shirtless or how perfectly aligned and white his teeth are.

"You must be hungry," he said, gesturing a hand at the many food options laid out before him. I quickly make my way to the chair opposite of him and looked at the dishes, feeling my stomach rumble in delight at the sight of them. I was hungry.

"You said you ordered the whole menu?" I asked.

"I didn't know what you like in the mornings," he answered easily, taking a sip of his coffee. "I hope I got some of your favorites."

I nodded silently. I didn't know what to say. I never had a guy buy me food - let alone a whole menu. I always depended on the Matthews to feed me regularly. I opted for waffles, scrambled eggs, and bacon. They were so delicious that I couldn't stop myself from letting out an appreciative moan and continued to shovel the food in my mouth. I lied - I was starving. I didn't care if I looked like a pig in front of a millionaire or if said millionaire was watching me in amusement as he enjoyed his omelet.

"Would you like some coffee?" he offered as he pushed a cup to my direction.

I quickly grab the warm cup and took a couple of tentative sips to drown down the lump in my throat. I almost choked on it when familiar flavors touched my tongue - Vanilla Chai Latte, double on the vanilla. He remembered how I liked my coffee. I wasn't sure if I should feel weird about that or grateful for that.

"Thanks," I muttured. "When I get home, I'll send the clothes back to you."

Lucas narrowed his eyes at me, looking highly offended. I don't see why he should be. I continued, ignoring his strong gaze, and moved my eggs around the plate.

"You already paid a lot of money for the painting you sent me - which, I'm also sending back as well because it's too expensive and too much," I said. "I don't want any of it so I'm giving them back. You shouldn't have given them to me in the first place."

"It's not something I can't afford," he retorted. "I didn't think receiving gifts could be such a hassle to you."

"It is when it costs billions of dollars and the clothes are designer," I shot back.

"It's not problem to me, Maya, as it shouldn't be a problem to your receiving them," he said with a shrug, a wicked grin etched onto his gorgeous face and his eyes twinkling in something indescribable. My hands ball up into a fist. I really want to slap that smug grin off of his face.

"Why did you buy me the painting, Lucas?" I demanded, my voice clear and fierce. He seem to notice the serious tone and put his cutlery down with a sign before he settled his green eyes on me. They looked difficult to read because there was this shield hiding away what he could be feeling, what he could be thinking. It left me in a daze.

"I felt I owe you an apology that day at the coffee shop," he explained coolly. "I felt I stepped over some boundaries I shouldn't have and disrespected you with some of the things I said. Then you saved me from being run over by that cyclist," he paused then shrugged. "I also felt you deserved a better explanation from me with the way I behave towards you. I shouldn't even try to be near you, Maya. The kind of man I was that day is not the man you think I am - it's my facade - romance is not my forte."

"You're not doing a very good job at staying away," I said without thinking.

He closed his eyes in defeat. "I know. But you're not making it easy for me either," he added. "You're just so...reckless -"

I bristled. That son of a -

" - and put together at the same time," he continued. "I don't know what to do with you."

Suddenly, my appetite disappears. He sounded tortured with his own thoughts, like he was being tugged in different directions. It was as if the thought of staying away from me was delightful and hurtful to him. He looks like he was fighting an inner battle with himself when it comes to me. I never seen him look so...indecisive on what he wants. He always looked so confident on his choices.

I gulped. "Well, I'm not exactly looking for romance either," I said after a moment passed; he peered up at me with those daring green eyes. "I'm not looking for a relationship and...we can call it even on saving each other. We don't really owe each other anything. But I guess...maybe we could be...friends?" That sounded more like a question rather than a suggestion. "You say I shouldn't be near me but you can't stay away so maybe being friends is the best thing to be. We can get to know each other better. We can stay in contact but we don't have to around each other."

"You mean like distant friends?"

I nodded. "Yeah. That."

Lucas frowned. "I'm not sure I can be that either."

Rolling my eyes, I scoffed. "Then you need to make up your mind, Huckleberry. Being friends is all I'm offering. Anything else is off the table."

"I wish I could explain to you why. Beyond friendship is something I don't do but just friends isn't enough for me either."

"Enlighten me then."

We stayed there in silence, staring at each other - me in annoyance and him in conflict - neither of us touching our food and our coffee growing cold.

"Perhaps it's best we talk about this later," he said. "I have an important meeting to attend in an hour."

"And I have work. Work!" I jumped once realization struck me. "Oh shit! Work! I have work at noon!"

"You have plenty of time to get to work, Maya," Lucas reassured. "I, however, need to get ready for that meeting. So let's finish eating and I'll take you home. Even though, Miss Matthews knows you're with me, I don't want to dwell too much time with you and have her worry."

"Don't think this conversation is over, Sundance," I added. "You gotta make up your mind.'

"Miss Hunter, I wouldn't dare leave it the way it is," he said with a light smile. "If this conversation is so important to you, how about we continue this conversation later tonight at my place?" He had his elbows on the table and his chin resting on his long fingers, his eyes appraising me with a intrigued gaze. "What time are you off of your shift?"

I raised a brow. "At nine. Why would I want to go to your place?"

"I figure you would want to talk about this in private and my home is the most secluded place I could think of," he said. "If you're not so comfortable about that then perhaps we can talk about this at Topanga's?"

I pressed my lips together in a thin line as I considered his words. He wasn't wrong that I would want to talk about this in a quiet place but I wouldn't want to have this conversation at Topanga's - the place is always full of teenagers who talk too loudly even at the most silent corner and old geezer who only come to stare at my breasts or to pull a move on me. We would never be able to talk without some of them eavesdropping on us. I don't want them to gossip about me speaking to one of the most wealthiest in New York and to send that to the tabloids. I don't want to be seen as some of his call girls.

"Fine," I mumbled. "We'll go to your place."

"Excellent," he smiled. He then rises up from his chair, folding his newspaper and laptop. "I'm going to go get dressed. When you're done eating, I'll take you home."

I nodded. That is the best deal I've heard all day; in my secluded home, surrounded by my art supplies, with Riley. I start to stuff more of the food in my mouth, feeling my cheeks puff out the more I shove in. Lucas looked at me with an amused smirk and interested eyes as he watched me devour my meal.

"Are you that eager to be away from me?" he questioned. His tone sounded odd. A little shaky and somewhat cracked.

"Eager to get back to Riley," I retorted. "Poor girl must be lonely and worried about me."

"I can assure you she is fine with my sister," he said. "So take it easy; I wouldn't want you to choke while I'm showering."

I glare at him even though he doesn't acknowledge that I am as he pulled out his cellphone from his back pocket and dials in a number. I was a bit distracted by the tendons of his arms, noticing the muscles were bulging along with his small movements. I stayed in a daze for a view minutes before I focused on observing his well-toned physique more thoroughly while remembering a lesson from Sex Ed about the human body and I distinctly recalled the types of forms there are; Lucas seems to have the mesomorph type. His abs weren't tightly or hard rock but their noticeable and inviting. His chest was wide and tempting.

But what really caught my eye were the layers of tattoos that covered his entire right arm all the way down to his right wrist. There were so many pictures etched into his skin; it started with a cross with the initials _PJF_ along with the years _1943 - 2012_ then it continues down with the many drawings that I think are suppose to represent him but I couldn't really make out what they are. I could see there are some Chinese symbols and names of people I never heard of. The rest was a mystery to me. The one thing that I can really make out is the quotes written on the left side of his chest in a cursive so elegant.

 _Facing life runs harder than any bull._

 _Face your fears._

 _You ride them or they ride you._

How curious and inspirational. I wonder where he got that from. Did he get that from a book or a movie I never heard of? Yeah right. I don't read books. Never had the patience for them. But I really wanted to know where he got that quote from.

"Joey, get the car around in fifteen minutes," he said, his husky voice breaking me out of my reverie. "Make sure to save the route for Greenwich Village to Upper East at eighteen-hundred. Also, head home as soon as we reached the destination, you are relieved for the night but makes sure to be at your post by eight."

He hangs up his phone and places it on the table before he leaves the room without another word, leaving me in a messy mass of confusion. I did not understand a fucking thing of what all of that was about. All I knew he spoke of where I live and where he lived and that he was talking to his bodyguard. Everything else was absolutely foreign to me. It kind of irritated me that he didn't tell me what it was about.

I rolled my eyes and went back to my food. Just because Lucas is being so secretive doesn't mean I have to go hungry for him. I inhaled the whole plate like a vacuum, stuffing them against my cheeks, and downing them with big gulps of water before I repeated. In a few minutes, I was slouched into into the chair, letting out a grateful sigh, as I rubbed my tummy with a lazy smile. That hit the spot. I never knew how hungry I really was. Now I feel bloated.

I figure he wouldn't be out of the shower anytime soon so I left the table and headed back into the room, hearing the sound of the rushing water inside the bathroom. I noticed that the door was slightly ajar, letting out the steam of the hot water. The very mischievous, risk-taking part of me was encouraging me to take a peek of Lucas Friar's form in all his glory but the reasonable, sunshine-skipping part of me - the Riley part inside of me that I like to call Dorothy - was persuading me to not do it because I wouldn't know how he would react to it if he caught me. As much as I hate to admit it to myself, that part of me was right. Just thinking back at how he responded to me a few minutes ago was somewhat terrifying especially when he looked like he was going to swing a right hook at me.

Clearing my throat, I chose to hunt for a hair dryer through the small tables, feeling my slightly dap hair seeping through the new outfit. I finally find it in one of them, plug it in the nearest outlet, and flip my hair over my face while bending forward as I turned it on to the highest setting, running the heat from the root to the tip of my hair. I would shake it out and comb my fingers through it to fluff it out. It only took me a few minutes until I felt my hair was dry, turned off the hair dryer, and flipped my hair back. I place the hair dryer on the table so I could go and stuff my other clothes in the shopping bag that Joey left behind.

"Excuse me."

Startled, I whirled around to find myself colliding with what feels like a brick wall and a hand held onto my arm to keep me steady. I look up to find Lucas staring down at me with an amused smirk while he was patiently listening to someone he has on call on his iPhone. He didn't let me go and I didn't make any move to step away from him. I was too stun at the close proximity between us, the heat of his body molding into mine, the planes of his chest pressed against mine, and his heavenly AXE scent intoxicating my senses. It doesn't help that he has these eyes glazed over with an emotion I couldn't figure out watching me, traveling down to my lips when I bit them in apprehension, and his jaw clenched tightly.

"How much are they asking for?...Unacceptable. That would be breaching our deal with Israel and throw off procedures with South Korea...And the cost of it all?...Do you have them sent to Puerto Rico? Excellent. With those, we will be able to have some sort of agreement with Costa Rica...We cannot give them what they are demanded unless we want them to start a small war with Israel's allies - they get most of their resources from them...Next time they call, send them directly to Alvin. This is in his department...Call me back afterwards."

He hangs up despite hearing the other person calling for his attention. He shoves his phone in his back pocket and turned his attention to me. He still hasn't let go of my arm. In fact, he moved both of his arms to my waist and pulled me closer, caging my arms between us.

A rise of panic ran through me. I didn't like this. I was too close to him. I could feel almost every inch of him from his harden planes to the feeling of his - oh God. He's wearing loose sweatpants and I could feel every part of him. Every. Single. Part. Of. Him. It wasn't awaken - at least, I don't think so - and it was pressed against my abdomen, causing a weird sensation to rumble alive within the pit of my stomach. I wasn't sure what it was but the indescribable feeling was actually scaring me and knowing it was coming from him was making it worse.

Quickly, I wedged my hands between us and pushed myself away from him. He looked confused and somewhat irked by this. I run my hand through my hair and cleared my throat.

"We gotta go," I murmured. "Riley is probably waiting for me."

His lips were pressed together in a hard line but he nodded nonetheless. He reaches for his car keys on the small table and takes the bag where all of my clothes are shoved in before he walks out of the room without another word. I narrowed my eyes after him. This seems to be a thing with him now. I follow him shortly, urging to be home already, and I almost tripped over my own feet when I halted in the middle of the living room.

Lucas was standing by the door, holding it open for him, with an elegant smile.

"After you, Miss Hunter," he said kindly.

I drank in the sight of him. Of this complex Southern man. As confusing as he is being with me - being sweet then a bit controlling - I have to admit that I am impressed that he decided to stay with me after witnessing me in my drunken state and throwing up. To most guys, that would be a turn off yet he doesn't seem the least bit disgusted by me. As I head out of the door, I could feel him watching after me, like he was observing me, and I could feel goosebumps rise up on my arms under his steady gaze.

We didn't speak a word as we walked down the corridor towards the elevator and not even a breath was heard when he pressed the button. While we were waiting, I'd glance around the hallway, taking in the detailed designs of the walls, the ceiling, and the doors of other rooms. Anything that would distract me from looking in his direction. Although, I failed miserably - I had peeked at him through my lashes and I thought my face erupted when I saw that he was also glancing down at me from the corner of his eye, his lips twitching. I bit my own and crossed my arms, not liking how my heart was racing at this. I wasn't sure if it was because it was out of adrenaline or anxiety.

The elevator arrived and we step inside. I lean against the wall by the corner as he pressed the button for the lobby and the doors slide closed.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted drastically, almost like I've been trapped in an airtight container, and my weight felt heavy on my feet, making me shift slightly to the side to keep my balance upright despite me leaning against the wall. I'd lick my lips and bite them as my eyes would glance up at the number of floors we passed by already. So far we are passing by the thirty-sixth floor. Why are elevators so damn slow?

I glance beside me. Lucas looked calm and cool, like he is analyzing inside his mind. I feel pathetic, acting all jittery and very affected by being in closed doors next to him. I took a deep breath through my nose, closing my eyes momentarily, trying to relax my jumbled thoughts and keep my head cool.

 _I couldn't let Lucas affect me like this._

But just as that thought ran through, Lucas suddenly shifted his weight. I look over at him out of curiosity. He glanced down at me for a brief moment then stared ahead to the elevator doors as he let out a quick breath. I stare at him in disbelief. Is he affected as well?

"What is it with elevators?" he muttered. I think it was something he meant to keep to himself but I heard it either way.

I snorted out a small laugh, shaking my head. He smiled charmingly and chuckled. The tension in the elevator broke and I felt there was enough room for me to breathe.

* * *

Lucas' bodyguard, Joey, was already waiting for us when we stepped outside of the hotel. My breath hitched at the sight of the pure white car; it was the new model of the BMW X series and the thing was monstrous. The thing is a beast. It was so weird seeing it in person after watching so many commercials about it and I hated it because it reminded me how much of a short person I really am.

"Mr. Friar," greeted Joey. He looks at me and gives me a quick nod. "Miss Hunter."

I gave him a vague smile. What else am I supposed to do? I don't know the guy.

"Mr. Ricciardella," said Lucas as he took the keys from Joey and strides around the car to the driver's side.

Joey opens the door to the passenger's side for me and I climb in. The beast of a car was way more bigger than I anticipated so I had to put a little hop in my step to be able to get in the seat. Once Joey was certain I was seated right, he closes the door the same time Lucas gets in the car and shoves the key in the ignition, starting up the monster engine. I could see the windows were tinted dark by the way everything looked dull outside and the car smelled brand new as I discreetly inhaled the forest scent circulating around us.

Lucas glides out of the parking lot with ease and we were soon moving along with the flow of New York traffic, the thought pulling me in a calm state as I breathed in the sight of my home. People walking down the sidewalk to the subway stations, pedestrians crossing the street in confidence, others taking their dogs out for their daily walks, and shopkeepers sweeping or organizing their displays, skaters grinding on anything they dared to stunt on, and groups of teenagers clambering around.

At a redlight, Lucas turned on his stereo, switched on the Bluetooth, then went on his phone, scrolling through it for a minute before he placed it down. Soon, the car was filled with simple beat drum and a guitar being strung coolly as a man's gruff voice vocalized through the speakers. I stared at the stereo in shock, feeling shivers crawl up and down on my spine in absolute pleasure, whilst my ears are blessed by the music. Oh wow. This is one hell of a surprise.

"You listen to Arctic Monkeys?" I asked.

"Not a huge fan of theirs," he answered. "I only listen to like three of their songs and I'd have to be in the mood to listen to them."

"I'm impressed, Huckleberry," I said. "I never pegged you as the kind of guy to listen to good music. I was expecting some sort of country song where you can do-si-do to and wave your ten gallon hat."

"You don't think country music is good?"

I pretended to gag. "Definitely not. Riley tried to get me to listen to this one country song one time and I almost wringed her neck for playing something so terrible in my car. I don't see the purpose of country music existing. It sounds like some sorry sucker pining over someone who will never look back at them. It's stupid, really. No offense to you, Ranger Rick," I added.

"None taken," he said. "Clearly you haven't given country music a chance and are quick to judge. If you take your time and actually listen to the lyrics, you might get past everything you don't like about it."

"Not gonna happen," I snorted. "I'd rather rip my own ears off then listen to that trash again."

Lucas grinned, mysterious and alluring. Then it disappeared when the music was cut off by the sound of an incoming call. I could see the caller ID on the stereo screen reads McCarthy. Lucas scowls a bit as he pressed a button on his steering wheel.

"Friar." His tone was cool and unwelcoming.

" _Mr. Friar, we heard back from the governor about the information you required_ ," a raspy voice spills out of the speakers.

"Good. Tell him to have his people send it to Abigail. Is there anything else?"

" _On it, sir, and no_."

Lucas cuts off the call and the music is back on. I raised a brow at him. He's really cold and controlling with his employees. And he offered me to apply for an internship to his company? Over my dead body. I shudder at the thought of being under his ruthless control. I'd be kicked out on the first day for not taking in his crude behavior so well.

The music is once again gone for another phone call and I look at the screen to see Chai blinking back at me. His sister? I hope everything is alright with Riley. Anticipation builds up inside of me. Nothing better not have happened to Riley or this Chai is gonna end up meeting the end of Jonathan's bat. Lucas presses the button on his wheel again before he made a left turn at the light.

"Friar," he snapped.

" _Good morning to you, my wonderful brother,_ " Chai said sarcastically and I can picture her rolling her eyes at his tone. " _You obviously didn't get laid last night since you're so stiff like a stick. More than usual too."_

"Morning, Chai - you're on speaker and I'm not alone."

" _Oh? Are you still with the blondie?"_

Lucas rolled his eyes. "Yes, I am. And I would appreciate it that you don't refer to her with such nicknames. Her name is Maya."

" _Hi Maya!_ " She completely ignored her brother. I guess it runs in the family.

"Hi...Chai," I replied back awkwardly. I don't do so well at meeting new people.

" _Heard a lot about you."_

"I highly doubt they were good things."

Chai laughed. _"I learned some interesting stories about you, Maya. But she mostly praised about you."_

I smiled. Oh, Honey. I can only imagine what sorts of crap Riley filled Chai's ears with.

"And how's Riley?" I asked.

" _She's doing fine. She actually had a mild hangover earlier but a quick shower and some tea and she was brand new. She's actually right here making us some breakfast."_

" _Hi Peaches!_ " Riley's cheerful voice rang from the background and my smile grew soft. It is always such a relief to hear her in the mornings.

"Hey Honey. Nice to hear you survived a hangover."

" _It's so weird that I even had one because I didn't drink as much as you did_."

I glance over at Lucas. He looked a bit put off and he was clutching the steering wheel too tightly that I could see that his knuckles were turning white under his grasp.

"Consider yourself lucky," I said. "Anyway, I'm on my way home right now and I ate so you don't have to worry about making me a plate."

" _Already?"_

"Yeah, I got work. I had picked up an extra shift for today. So I'll see you soon."

" _Okay!"_

"Chai," Lucas intruded. "Make sure you're ready by the time I drop off Maya. I'm picking you up and I have a meeting to attend shortly."

" _Okay, prissy pants."_

Lucas hangs up and the music takes over the speakers again. I look over at him, a bit annoyed. He was being borderline rude right now. I was somewhat in the middle of a conversation with my best friend and he isn't particularly keen on his sister. Being the oldest, I usually try whatever I could to be close to Jonathan as I can so to see him acting so distant and blunt with his sister was becoming a pet peeve to me.

"I can definitely tell that you're adopted now," I said. "Your sister sounds more fun than you."

"She tends to go over the edge sometimes," he retorted "If I don't act the way I do then she would have gone overboard."

"She sounds like she was being civil to me."

"She was tamed. Believe me, you don't know my sister."

 _Like I don't know you?_ I thought sarcastically, rolling my eyes. I peer out of the windows and noticed the familiarity of the area. We just passed Topanga's. We were getting close to my apartment now.

"I doubt she's any bad if you trusted her enough to take care of Riley for me," I countered.

"She can be a lunatic when she wants to be but she isn't an opportunist," he said. "She isn't a fan of drunken sex. Although, she does sound like she was smitten by your friend."

I stared at him. "What?"

Lucas smirked. "I guess I forgot to mention it to you. My sister is a lesbian."

My eyes widen in shock. I did not see that coming.

"Don't worry about her with Riley," he said. "She isn't the type to make the first move. She likes to save herself from the embarrassment. She'd rather let the girl give her solid hints that she is interested or to come up to her first."

"I'm not prejudiced or anything but Riley isn't a lesbian."

"Like I said - Chai isn't the type to make the first move."

We finally reached my apartment building and Lucas parallel-parked at the curve. I sighed in relief to see my beautiful Impala resting gracefully at her usual spot in front of the building, her gorgeous black paint job glimmering brightly under the sunlight. Bless you, Riley. I unbuckle my seatbelt and quickly send a text to Riley to let her know I was home. I was about to open the door when it swung open, revealing Lucas standing there, holding it open for me, with a gentle smile. I never noticed he had moved - I guess I was too engrossed at the sight of my car that I barely paid attention to him.

I was in a slight daze to see him standing there, looking inviting and provocative in his simple clothes. From his blue shirt that did not leave much to my imagination of what is underneath and the gray sweatpants - those damned sweatpants that I was pulled to against my own will and had me feel much more of him than I desired. I flushed at that brief memory of a rare moment in my life. My hands tingled at the sensation I remember feeling in my stomach from the pressure of him against me but I couldn't really find it in me to run my hands through his hair to cease the urge to touch him, any part of him, and I grew unbelievably frustrated.

"I guess that's something Chai and I have in common," I said as I climb out of the car. I thought I heard him let out an audible gasp but I shrugged it off and continued to walk up to the front entrance of the apartment building.

* * *

The moment I opened the door to my apartment, I was greeted by the wonderful aroma of Riley's special breakfast - waffles with maple syrup from the market nearby and sausage smothered in chedder cheese along with bacon strips. If I wasn't so full from the meal I was given earlier, I would have immediately stuffed myself with it.

Chai and Riley were sitting at the kitchen counter with two empty plates in front of them, giggling lightly to each other. Riley looked better than I did with her cute pajamas and short hair pinned up in a loose ponytail. Chai seemed like she slept well too and she was wearing the same clothes I remember her in from last night. Riley looked different - she seemed to glow. It wasn't unlike her but the brightness was at a new level. I couldn't explain.

"Honey, I'm home!" I sang.

"Peaches!" She leaps out of her chair to sprint up to me and trap me in a suffocating embrace, rocking us slightly to the sides. I laughed giddily at her reaction and returned the hug, if not, harder. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too," I said as we released each other.

"Good morning, Lucas," Riley greeted politely.

"Good morning, Miss Matthews," Lucas responded in a stiff, formal manner. I stared at him strangely. He almost looked like he was trying to impress her and I wasn't sure if I liked that or not.

"Quit being so formal and call her Riley," grumbled Chai. "She isn't the president or governor. Just talk to her like a normal person."

"Riley," Lucas gives her a nod with a nice smile then sends a glare over at Chair who raises her coffee mug in mock congratulation before she took a sip and made her way towards me.

"Hey Maya, nice to meet you sober," she said, her brown eyes twinkling in mirth, and I immediately take a liking towards her, shocking me entirely. Then again, she isn't exactly related to Lucas and she was nothing like him.

"Nice to meet you too, Chai," I grinned. I was aware that I was biting my lip. I wasn't flirting with her but she does give out a certain vibe that makes it feel good to be around her. "Thanks for taking care of Riley for me."

"Anytime," she said. "She's quite the catch so somebody had to make sure no dirtbag puts their grubby hands on her. She's was like a drunken kitten last night."

I glance over at Riley and I was taken aback to see her smiling sheepishly down at her feet, her face a pink inferno. I then raise a brow at her. What in the world is going on with her? I've never seen her act so meek over a compliment from a girl before. Of course, Riley is very eye catching with her chocolate brown hair, doe cocoa eyes, and flawless smile that seems to make a room brighter so she does tend to capture the attention of both genders but she would always politely shrug them off with a giggle.

"Yeah," I drawled slowly. "She tends to get a little cuddly when she's intoxicated."

"Yeah, she does," Chai smiles over at Riley, who's face was now a dark red. It makes me curious about what happened between them last night.

"I have a feeling you two are going to be the best of friends seeing that you're bonding over the expense of my embarrassment," Riley muttered.

"I'm not against it," chortled Chai; I really like this girl. I honestly expected some snooty rich girl wearing Gucci heels or holding a Prada bag with a chihuahua inside it but she was the polar opposite of everything I thought she was. She was surprisingly cool. I can't think of a better way to describe her. I could really see myself having a friendship with her. I owe her that much for taking care of Riley.

"We have to go, Chai," added Lucas in a curt tone.

Chai rolls her eyes. "Yes, father. Way to ruin the mood."

"You can flirt with Riley another time," Lucas said. "I'm on a tight schedule and I'm not going to get behind it over your hormones. Get your stuff."

Chai sneers at him for a minute then turns away with the scoff as she heads over to the couch to pick up her purse. I glare over at Lucas; I really don't like his attitude towards his sister. Chai stops by Riley's side and puts her hand on her arms. I watch them with interested eyes, taking in how Riley seems to melt slightly under Chai's touch and the nervous smile speaks her inner thoughts loudly towards me.

"You got my number, right?" Chai inquired.

Riley nodded. "It's saved. I'll send you a text to give you the details."

Chai smiled warmly. "Can't wait. See you later, sunshine."

"Bye, Chai."

I feel an unwanted pang of jealousy at the exchange between the two. Not even twenty-four hours and they are able to talk to each other so normally as if they've known each other for years meanwhile I am over here feeling like I was talking to a statue of a Greek God. Beautiful but unresponsive. I cross my arms and glance up at Lucas to find him staring down at me intently. I narrow my eyes at him. Can he do anything besides looking at me? A simple goodbye is enough of a conversation to me.

Chai struts past us, blowing me a teasing kiss, before she pulled the door open and walks out, her hair swaying across her back long with her rhythmic steps. Lucas didn't move from his spot next to me, his gaze never wavering. I started to feel a bit self-conscious because I have this guy looking at me like I was the only person in the room while my best friend was witnessing this and I knew I was not going to hear the end of this as soon as I close the door.

"You should get going," I murmured. "Your meeting."

"RIght," he said. His voice sounded a bit strained. "Care to walk me out?"

I nodded in silence. Lucas turned and headed out of the open door as I followed him not too closely. I look over my shoulder to see Riley watching me with knowing eyes and an excited smile but it immediately fell from her face when I shook my head at her with a warning frown. I didn't want her to have any more content to ask me about later on so I stepped out in the corridor and closed the door behind me, even though I knew she is most likely trying to listen in on us.

"You get out of work at nine, right?" Lucas asked.

"Yeah."

"I'll pick you up then and we could continue our conversation."

I arched a brow. "You make it sound like it's some sort of meeting. Should I dress up fancy for this occasion?"

Lucas smiled. "Business or casual. Optional."

"Then you'll be seeing me dressed up in an old rag and looking like a hot mess, Lone Star."

Lucas rolled his eyes and stared down at me, his expression unreadable. "I find that highly impossible, Maya."

"And you would know because - mph!"

Before I knew what was happening, Lucas had rushed towards me and had swallowed my surprised gasp by enclosing his mouth on mine. He had pushed me against the door and both of my hands were caught in a strong grasp above my head by one of his hands while the other was tangled in my hair, tugging it lightly to tile my head upward. His lips were on mine, passionate, hungry, and powerful. I could hear him breathing heavily through his nose like he is trying to absorb me in. He then moved his leg between mine and had pressed himself against me, causing me to let out a gasp.

 _Oh fuck. He was hard. He was so fucking hard. He's so hard for me. He wants me._

Lucas took advantage of my gasp as an opening and his tongue invades my mouth, meeting mine in a slow, seductive dance that ignited a furious heat from the deep depths of my abdomen. He wasn't rushing with me - he was taking his time to mark every ounce of me as he could, painting me like he was the brush and I was the canvas. He brings his hand to the side of my neck, curling around it and my jaw, keeping me steady in place, as he pressed himself closer to me, letting me feel every ounce of him.

And just like that, I am suddenly helpless. I've lost control of every part of me that held common sense, protesting against my hidden desires for him, and I returned his kiss with equal vigor. For a moment, I forgot about everything - I didn't think about the fact that some of the neighbors were in the hallway as usual - I didn't think about Riley possibly hearing the light whimpers or breathless moans that were being forced out of me - I didn't think about the rules I set up for myself years ago when it came to men - I was too consumed in the rumbling lust I've fought long enough since I met him and released it all along with the sexual tension that would be electrifying among the air between us whenever our eyes would meet.

"So sweet," he growled between every brush and stroke. "Taste like vanilla."

 _Oh fucking hell, he can taste the vanilla latte I had_. I've never been kissed like this before. It was like he was driven into insanity with my lips, needing to be touched by them at every waking moment. He was like a starved man, desperate to taste me. It made me wonder how long has he been wanting this? To kiss me? I certainly didn't know I wanted to kiss him until now. His lips taste delicious on mine. It was like tasting the forbidden flavors of nirvana. And then there's his erection twitching against my belly with every touch between our lips - Oh my God.

And suddenly, Lucas breaks away from with a stolen breath and all of his hold on me was gone. I was left slumped against the door, my arms dropping to my sides, breathing heavily and my face feeling like it was burning. My heart rate was going through the roof. My legs were shaking, my knees knocking into each other. There was a demanding ache formed between them, making me squeeze my thighs together. Lucas looked like he could barely keep himself restrained though he is fighting it, his hands trembling slightly, and his eyes glazed over with dark, desirable green. Damn it, why did he stop?

Then, in an impressive, dramatic turn, Lucas takes one deep breath and forms a crooked smile upon his swollen lips.

"I'll see you tonight after work... _ma'am_."

He ended his sentence with a certain twang that left my ears tingling in delight and he had tipped his head as if he was bidding farewell with a cowboy hat along with a smug smirk before he turned to walk down the corridor in obvious confidence.

"Oooooh…" I let out an annoyed, shuddering breath as I balled my hands up into a fist.

My blood boiled in my veins and I was sure my face was now red out of sheer frustration. How could he rile me up like that and then leave me hanging?

That bastard.

* * *

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